


Six-Month Lover

by afuzzyowl



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Pining, Slice of Life, oikawa really fuckin loves iwa, other pairings are side, there's more humor in there than you'd think lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-04-08 07:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 89,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14100501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afuzzyowl/pseuds/afuzzyowl
Summary: Iwaizumi barks out a laugh. “I’m still trying to get over the fact that you made a PowerPoint presentation about why we should date.”Oikawa doesn’t tell him the file has existed for the last twelve years, constantly receives updates, and that the original copy contained almost a hundred slides before he forced himself to get a grip.Moments in Oikawa’s journey to win over his best friend’s love: the sad, the happy, and everything in between.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO it's me with another iwaoi.........this time a chapter fic............hope you likey <3

_prologue._

It starts on a Saturday evening at 5:42 pm.

* * *

Oikawa’s fingers whiten around the phone as he stares at the notification, something cold and numbing creeping into his chest. He reads the pop-up over and over again, hoping that he somehow misunderstood, but the pixelated words sit there and mock him.

_tofu_lover65: you play volleyball too? what position? i’m a setter. :)_

A hole opens in his stomach, deep and wide and black.

“Did you find it?” Iwaizumi is calling from the living room, but his words don’t register. “Oikawa?”

When he doesn’t answer, Iwaizumi’s footsteps start to pad closer. “Trashykawa, you listening? Make sure you’re looking at the downtown location ‘cause their hours a—what are you doing?”

Oikawa tears his attention from the screen with a smile that’s all teeth, mouth opening to reply. Then he freezes, because for one fleeting moment, looking at Iwaizumi standing in the doorway in a slightly wrinkled, half-buttoned dress shirt, hands paused on his tie—Oikawa is thrown back to high school, days filled with volleyball and passion and longing, those days when he first realized his feelings.

His heart aches.

“Wow, Iwa-chan,” his voice lilts, bright as sunshine. “You look like the world’s most dashing gorilla tonight! Just who are you trying to impress, hmm?”

Iwaizumi glares. “You’re the one who told me to dress up for your fancy-schmancy resta—”

“Is it tofu-underscore-lover-sixty-five?” Oikawa cuts in, eyes and lips forming perfect crescents. “You’re practicing wearing your nice clothes for him? Isn’t that who you’ve been talking to him on this mysterious app called Tind—” Iwaizumi's eyes go round and he immediately lunges forward, snatching the phone from Oikawa’s hands, ears as red as fire.

“Trashykawa, were you going through my shit?”

“Uh, excuse you,” Oikawa scoffs, folding his arms across his chest. “The notification popped up while little ol’ me was googling the restaurant like you told me to. What kind of person do you take me for, really.” Iwaizumi mutters some choice words under his breath about how he knows Oikawa goes through his messages all the time, but Oikawa ignores him. “Also, just putting it out there, but that’s definitely the worst username I have _ever_ heard of in my entire life! What horrible taste in men!”

“...Your twitter handle is probemealiens92.”

“Don’t try to change the subject! And why are you even using a dating app, Iwa-chan. I thought you weren’t interested in dating.”

Iwaizumi glowers. “What’s it to you? I can date if I want.”

Oikawa rolls his eyes. “Well, duh, but my point is that you haven’t expressed an interest in that kind of thing. At all! Like, since forever!”

Iwaizumi’s scowl lasts for a moment longer before he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“Matsukawa installed it,” he mutters, looking away. “Told me it was high time I started seriously looking.”

“’Seriously looking?’” The laugh that forces its way out of his throat is sharp and derisive. “It’s not like you didn’t have girlfriends in university.”

“None of them were really serious or anything.”

The implication of the statement makes Oikawa’s stomach turn. “So your serious relationships in university weren't serious enough, because now you want _serious_. Right. And where exactly did this even come from? When were you going to let Oikawa-san know about this huge life revelation, hmm?”

Iwaizumi shrugs, carelessly dropping his phone on his desk. “We’re twenty-six already. I’m happy with where my career’s at and Mom’s started nagging me about bringing someone home.”

“Why does that even matter?” Oikawa shoots back, panic squeezing his throat. “Who marries before they’re thirty nowadays, anyway! And it’s not like she has to worry about you being lonely since you have me, you can feel free to bring this wonderful specimen home!”

“Yeah, but you’re not...you’re you, all right? It’s different,” Iwaizumi says, matter-of-fact.

Oikawa feels like he’s been punched in the chest. He glares at his dearest friend, the love of his life, who must see something in his face because he straightens and takes a step forward, expression tight in concern. “Oikawa?”

Oikawa steps back. Hurt and frustration and dread numb his senses.

He was looking forward to this day for so long. He'd practiced what to say, had a whole script in his mind: “Iwa-chan, you look nice today,” “is that the shirt I bought you for your birthday?” “see, I told you that shade of lilac would look good on you, isn’t it nostalgic?” Because Oikawa had wanted a valid reason to see Iwaizumi in it, Iwaizumi who’s as good and kind and genuine as ever, but who’s grown and matured and fills out his clothes even better than he did in high school: taller now, solid, warm, strong. The Iwaizumi he thought he knew everything about.

 

 

He’d hoped to muster up the courage to confess today.

 

 

“Right,” Oikawa says slowly, calmly. “You know what, Iwa-chan, let’s forget the dinner reservation for tonight. It’s not that important, anyway.”

“What?” Iwaizumi’s arms uncross, dropping back to his side. “Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“But...you’ve been waiting forever to try it.”

“Yeah, well. I’m not in the mood anymore.”

Iwaizumi looks utterly lost. “What’s with you?”

“There’s nothing ‘with’ me,” Oikawa murmurs, turning to leave, but Iwaizumi grabs his arm.

“You’re acting like a shithead, Shittykawa—”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry for being such a—”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Iwaizumi growls, lips pulling into a scowl. “You’ve been whining for months now to go out somewhere fancy, and now you’re suddenly not in the mood?”

“Yeah," Oikawa tells him. "I’m not in the mood.”

Iwaizumi’s face is beginning to redden with rage. “I can’t fix anything if you don’t tell me what’s wrong!”

Oikawa's face burns with something like mortification, because there he is again, reliable, honorable Iwa-chan, always trying to soothe Oikawa's fits. But this isn't something Iwaizumi can fix just by wishing to fix it. He opens his mouth to shoot back something scathing, but then he catches the glint of hurt in Iwaizumi’s eyes, and he slowly deflates, suffocated by guilt. He remembers the pride Iwaizumi had radiated when he boasted about scoring the reservation after weeks of Oikawa’s whining, his rare smile subtle and fond. Shame joins the mortification, washes over Oikawa like a splash of cold water. It’s not Iwaizumi’s fault for not understanding what he’s fought so hard to keep secret.

“Okay.” Oikawa swallows down his ugly jealousy and desperation. “You’re right. Sorry.”

The anger instantly evaporates from Iwaizumi’s expression. “Huh?” he gapes, looking even more bewildered than before.

Oikawa’s appetite is non-existent at this point, but he forces a smile and says, “C’mon, Iwa-chan, let’s go. We don’t wanna be late, right?”

“Idiot, I don’t care about the reservation. We can always go some other time.”

“Well, what do you want to do then?”

“What? Don’t change the subject. This isn’t about me, this is about you being all stick-up-your-ass.”

“…Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

They lock into a stare-down. Oikawa can't figure out what he should do, he’s upset and pissed but he feels guilty for feeling those things because he has no right, and all he wants to do right now is curl up in bed and maybe cry a little. He doesn’t even know what he’s being stubborn about anymore, doesn’t know what to say. Iwaizumi’s jaw slowly loosens as he undoubtedly absorbs every expression shift on Oikawa’s face.

“Just tell me,” Iwaizumi coaxes, stepping closer.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Oikawa mutters. _It’s just that my heart hurt imagining you with someone else_ , he can’t say. _Be mine. Love me. Love me._

And there’s no solution to this situation, because he sure as hell isn’t confessing his feelings when he's already been indirectly rejected, and there’s no other—

Unless—

Oikawa takes in Iwaizumi’s furrowed brow, the obvious concern and frustration. Iwaizumi loves him in his own way. Not the way that Oikawa wants, but perhaps it’ll be enough.

It’s a split-second decision, but Oikawa decides to take a leap of faith.

He squashes down the feeling that’s making his nose sting and musters up all of the determination and tenacity he honed from his days as captain. “Fine!” he huffs, puffing out his chest. “Since you’ve brought it up, there’s something I think we should talk about.” He takes a deep breath, willing his voice to stay firm. “I have a proposal. I’ll go get my laptop, and in the meantime if Iwa-chan could set up the projector in the living room, that would be greatly helpful.”

* * *

“What,” Iwaizumi hisses, “in the ever-loving fuck is this?”

Oikawa rolls his eyes and smacks his palm against the wall. “Geez, read the title, Iwa-chan! I specifically typed it in size eighty-four font for your old man eyes!”

“You are such trash, I swear to god—”

“Ah ah ah~” He waggles his index finger. “Shh. It’s listen time now. Not naggy naggy time. Like I said, everything will be clear in just a second.”

Iwaizumi’s eyebrow twitches, but he sits back onto the couch, lips pressed into a line.

Oikawa takes that as his go-ahead and clears his throat, brushing a shaky hand over his oversized alien t-shirt and matching sweatpants. The fact that Iwaizumi has also changed back to his home clothes, which actually kind of match with Oikawa’s, makes him feel steadier. “Ahem. Hello, Iwa-chan, and welcome. As you’re aware, my name is Oikawa Tooru. Today, I have the pleasure of presenting you with an incredibly exciting proposal, titled ‘Why Iwaizumi Hajime Should Go Out With Oikawa Tooru.’”

“What the fuck,” Iwaizumi says.

Oikawa hits spacebar and the slide transitions to a picture of five-year-old him and Iwaizumi by the lake near their childhood homes, arms around each other’s shoulders as they grin into the camera. He turns on his laser pointer, circling over the image. “First and foremost: Iwa-chan and I are best friends. This means that we know everything about each other, including all of our hopes and dreams and dirty little secrets. Of course, it also means that our personalities are well-matched, as are our interests, to a certain extent.”

Oikawa pauses for a beat, glancing at Iwaizumi, but the latter doesn’t respond. He falters for only a second before shaking himself out of it.

The second slide is a picture of Iwaizumi unpacking a box in their new apartment, Oikawa in the background throwing out peace signs. “Second, Iwa-chan and I are roommates. Seeing as we live together, our relationship transcends beyond that of best friendship. We are superb at co-existing in a single space and also appreciate each other’s living habits.”

“You mean I’m good at picking up your slack,” Iwaizumi mutters.

“That too,” Oikawa quickly nods. “Of course, Oikawa-san—I mean, Oikawa, will try his best to pick up after himself if this is something that is unsatisfactory to Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi stares at him like he’s grown another head.

“Anyway.” Oikawa clears his throat again. “Third. Your mother loves me. In fact, your entire family loves me. I think that one’s self-explanatory. No K-drama mother-in-law-tortures-son’s-wife scenario to be found here.”

“Who the hell would want you as their wife.”

“Rude, Iwa-chan! I’d make a spectacular wife!”

“A disgusting one. And you know my mom’s not the type to do that.”

“Okay, true, but it’s still important to foster a positive relationship with your significant other’s family!”

Iwaizumi has nothing to say to that, so Oikawa counts it as a win.

“Great, now on to the fourth point—”

Iwaizumi sighs, long and deep, the way he does when he’s genuinely annoyed. “How many points are there, exactly?” he asks, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes.

Oikawa does not let his face fall. “I’ve condensed it to six because I knew Iwa-chan wouldn’t have the patience to sit through too much, which, by the way, leads to my first point! You know, about understanding you! And it would go by a lot more quickly if someone stopped interrupting me!” he huffs. “As I was saying, fourthly, our friend circles overlap quite a bit, so we can always go out together with each other’s friends without feeling awkward. This also means that you can complain to them about me without coming off as a narrow-minded, petty, shallow, frivolous boyfriend. Maybe. I guess. If you don’t do it that often. Though I insist we further discuss the details later about what is complainable or non-complainable content.”

“Wow, explicitly giving me permission to complain about you, how mature.”

“Fifth, I have great legs. And I know you’re a legs man, Iwa-chan, don’t deny it.”

“You are such a piece o—”

“And finally,” Oikawa says loudly. “Because we are the best of friends and will remain so regardless of whether we date or not, there will be no hard feelings in the case that this ends unfavourably, I promise. But, because I know Iwa-chan is a bullheaded gorilla, I am hereby suggesting a trial period of six months, after which our dating status may be terminated by either party without fuss. Like I said, no hard feelings or complication or drama. Isn’t it great? Aren’t I a genius, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi just sits there, face scrunched up.

Oikawa can feel the tremors in his smile, but he holds strong. It’s okay even if Iwaizumi says no. At least there won’t be any regrets left; he’ll know that he’s tried, and through a clever execution that ensures their friendship won’t be affected. Rejection at this point would be easy-peasy, since nothing’s truly begun yet. He was planning to confess today anyway, and isn't this a much better way of testing the waters?

(It’s fine, everything will be fine, no big deal, but he’s desperately hopeful, and terrified of how that hope could destroy him.)

The wall clock ticks, second passing by agonizing second, but Iwaizumi doesn’t so much as shift. His heavy, narrowed gaze pins Oikawa to the spot as the latter struggles not to give anything away.

See, the thing about spending their whole lives together is that one would think the resulting predictability would eventually exhaust the relationship. But oftentimes, and usually when it comes to the important things, Oikawa can only guess how Iwaizumi will react.

Maybe it’s because people are constantly changing. Maybe it’s because people like to think they know their important ones better than they really do. “If the world ends tomorrow, what would you do today?” How many could accurately forecast their best friends’ answers? There are moments when those reactions are unpredictable, and maybe it’s those moments that make life exciting, that make learning about others worthwhile. Oikawa thinks about these things a lot, especially when new friends seem surprised that he’s still so close to a guy he met when he was four.

And right now is one of those moments, because Oikawa has no fucking clue how the person he’s spent his entire life with will react to him pouring his heart out, even if Iwaizumi isn't aware of it. And he can only wait for Iwaizumi to make or break him. He’s good at waiting; he’s been patient for over a decade now, horrified at first before gradually accepting his feelings, then biding his time, wiggling deeper and deeper into Iwaizumi’s heart—and now, he’s reached the end of his rope.

But he’s also found his chance.

After what feels like two years, Iwaizumi’s whole body sags and he sighs again, big and heavy and ‘why are you like this.’ “I can’t believe this.”

Oikawa picks at his nails, gaze falling to the ground.

“You’re serious?” Iwaizumi asks.

He nods, allowing his plastic smile to finally drop. “Yes.”

“I’m still trying to get over the fact that you made a PowerPoint presentation about why we should date.”

Oikawa doesn’t tell him that the file has existed for the last twelve years, constantly receives updates, and that the original copy contained almost a hundred slides before he forced himself to get a grip. “Well, you know how I got tired of dating a while ago,” he chuckles. “I thought if Iwa-chan felt too lazy to date too, then we could...reach an agreement. But it makes sense, doesn’t it? You wouldn’t have to build your life around a whole other person because we’re, like, already like this.” He laces his fingers in demonstration. “Or get used to someone completely new. That whole getting-to-know-you phase gets so old, I know I’m way too jaded for that by now. And hey, at least you know I’ll never cheat on you!”

“I guess,” Iwaizumi concedes.

“Just six months, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa prods. “It’ll be the best six months of your life, one-hundred-percent satisfaction guaranteed, refunds accepted on the condition of whole-hearted loving during trial period!”

Iwaizumi scowls. “What if this makes things weird, though?”

“Pfft, nonsense!” Oikawa laughs, waving a hand dismissively. “That’s what the trial period is for! And besides, we’ve been friends for so long, we wouldn’t let something like this ruin our friendship. Right?”

“You know, the worst part about all this is that I started out thinking you were batshit crazy, but it does sort of make sense,” Iwaizumi groans, putting his head in his hands.

“Does that mean you agree?” Oikawa shuffles over to the couch and flops down, squirming under Iwaizumi’s arms and poking his head over the other’s lap, smiling beatifically.

Iwaizumi just looks down at him, exasperated, the set of his mouth soft. “Fine. Even though I already know I’m gonna regret this. ”

“You won’t!” Oikawa crows, throwing his arms around Iwaizumi’s waist and burying his face in his stomach. “I won’t let you.”

* * *

Later that night, they’re sprawled on opposite ends of the couch watching Bigfoot documentaries. Oikawa is gleefully deactivating Iwaizumi’s Tinder account (and sending threatening messages to the cuter boys who had dared to message what was his) when Iwaizumi asks, “So what do you get out of this?”

Oikawa carefully shrugs, having already mentally rehearsed his answer. “Welllll, my mom’s always nagging about wanting to see you more often. And you know me, I get lonely easily. Plus, you’re not actually gross, Iwa-chan, otherwise I wouldn’t keep you around.”

“Gee, thanks,” Iwaizumi grumbles, reaching over to flick him on the forehead.

“Ow! What a brute!”

“Yeah, well, now you’re dating this brute.”

“Oh.” Oikawa bites his lip, peeking over at him, but Iwaizumi’s just watching the TV, blue glow casting shadows on his relaxed face. “Wow, you’re right. Haha. It’s okay, I know you don’t have as much dating experience as me, so Oikawa-san will guide you through all this unfamiliar territory.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!!! would appreciate so much if you could let me know what you thought :D next chapter should be out (hopefully) soon.


	2. Days 1-10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU all so much for the wonderful comments. dem comments keep me goin', yanno? much grateful, such happy, wow

_Day 1._

Oikawa usually wakes before Iwaizumi to get to practice, but it’s his day off, so he’s still lying in bed when he hears the other man start getting ready for work. He yawns into his pillow, stretching—and then the events from the day before come crashing back to him, and he snaps awake, flinging off the covers, pure, undiluted happiness blooming in his chest. When he bursts into the living room, Iwaizumi’s already putting his shoes on at the genkan.

It’s strange, because they’ve had so many mornings like this, but everything feels different after he’s spent a good chunk of the night fantasizing about what it’d be like if they got married.

God, if Iwaizumi ever becomes a mind-reader, Oikawa will just go jump off the nearest building, thank you very much.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi says as he reaches for his briefcase, snapping Oikawa back to reality. “Breakfast’s on the dining table. I should be back by six today. See you later.”

“Wait, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa cries, skidding over in his fuzzy alien slippers.

“What?”

“Uh.” Oikawa fidgets. “What...what game are you going to today?”

“Semi-final between the Giants and Tigers,” Iwaizumi tells him with a blink. “Why?”

“Oh, nothing!” Oikawa laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just wondering. Um, it sounds fun!”

“Yeah, I’ve been looking forward to it. Should be a good game, strong players this season, no serious injuries.”

“That’s good. You always come back super pumped from baseball games, haha...”

“Yeah, they’re fun to write about. Especially those home-runs. So satisfying.” Iwaizumi tilts his head, squinting at Oikawa with a bemused look. “What’s wrong with you? Your face is being weird.”

“It is not!” Oikawa stutters, even as he feels himself warm. “I’m just—excited for you.”

“Riiight,” Iwaizumi says, clearly skeptical. “Well, I gotta get going, so...”

“Ah, okay! Have a good day, Iwa-chan! Write some killer articles!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Iwaizumi quirks a smile and makes for the door.

Watching his back as he leaves, Oikawa is suddenly overcome by the feeling of déjà-vu—he’s dreamt of this before. Or at least he’s fantasized about it, or something, and maybe it’s the shadow of those imaginings from sleep that suddenly make courage swell in his chest.

In that instant, he takes a deep breath, steps into the genkan, and grabs Iwaizumi by his suit sleeve. The other man turns toward him, brows raised in question, and Oikawa squeezes his eyes shut, pitching forward. His lips meet Iwaizumi’s cheek, soft and gentle. He lingers there for a second before pulling away slowly, the quiet sound of mouth on skin echoing in his ears. Iwaizumi lifts a hand to his cheek, eyes wide in shock.

“B-Bye now,” Oikawa mumbles, face definitely red as a firetruck. “Hurry up, you’re gonna be late.”

“Oh,” Iwaizumi says dumbly. “Okay. Uh, see you tonight?”

“Yuuup.”

Iwaizumi steps out of Oikawa's space, and then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

Oikawa sinks to the ground with his hands covering his face. He’d just kissed Iwa-chan. On the cheek, but still a very real, non-platonic kiss. He feels like he might go into shock. Or spontaneously develop asthma. A squeal forces its way past his clenched lips and he slaps the floor repeatedly until his hand begins to hurt.

 

 

“So I heard your boyfriend’s game is going overtime today,” Hanamaki teases, nudging him so hard he bumps into the businessman behind him. “Guess we’re stuck with you then.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Oikawa retorts automatically.

Because he’s petty and vengeful and still bitter about how Matsukawa made Iwaizumi install a dating app, Oikawa hasn’t told the meme team about his recently updated relationship status. Matsukawa doesn’t say anything on the subject either, probably because he thinks Oikawa hasn’t found out yet. But really, how dare he? Disregarding the fact that Oikawa knows Matsukawa did it for him in his own odd, twisted way, it was still way too dramatic and _risky_.

“And are you complaining about my dazzling presence, Makki? I’ll have you know that people all over the world would kill to be hanging out with Oikawa Tooru, Olympian and professional ladykiller!”

“Oh really, I wonder why he can’t land himself his best friend then. C’mon, it’s been, like, a decade. It’s time to make a move.”

Oikawa just sniffs, slipping on his sunglasses as the train doors slide open and they venture out into the evening rush. “I don’t need romantic advice from you of all people, Makki. Or you, Mattsun. Especially you.”

“Huh? Why me.”

“Hey, I resent that,” Hanamaki protests. “We’re the ones who’ve been in a steady relationship since high school.”

Oikawa flaps a hand at him. “That doesn’t count, you and Mattsun were made for each other.”

“Yeah, like you and Iwaizumi weren’t,” Matsukawa snorts. “Pretty sure you don’t like anyone in the universe half as much as you like him. And that’s including the aliens.”

“Awww,” Hanamaki coos. “Oikawa and Iwaizumi sitting in a tree, F-U-C—”

“MAKKI, THERE ARE CHILDREN HERE.”

“—I-N-G. Imagine the mechanics of that though, fucking in a tree, haha.”

“You are absolutely _disgusti_ —”

“Yo, look.” Matsukawa reels them towards the station bulletin board. “There’s gonna be fireworks at the beach today.”

“Oh, shit! I love fireworks. Where is this beach though, I’ve never heard of it...hm, it’s five stations down. We can drop by after dinner.”

“Where are we going for dinner anyway?”

Oikawa perks up. “This new ramen place that I heard was really good!” he gushes. “Apparently, their spicy miso is killer.” After shoyu, Iwaizumi’s go-to is spicy miso, so he’s always on the lookout for ramen places that make it well.

“Mmm, I love me some spice,” Matsukawa deadpans, leering at Hanamaki, who waggles his eyebrows at him. Oikawa gags.

 

 

 _When will you be done?_ he texts Iwaizumi under the table while they’re waiting for their ramen, and gets back a delayed _sorry, running late, not until 11 or so_. He pouts and replies, _fine we’ll just watch the fireworks without you (ꐦ ಠ皿ಠ )_ , and then sulkily puts his phone away without waiting for a response.

The server drops by with their agedashi tofu appetizer and Oikawa gasps, immediately fishing out his phone again for a picture. “DO NOT,” he shouts at Hanamaki and Matsukawa, smacking away their chopsticks. “This looks _delectable_ , I need the perfect picture for my Instagram.” The pair just sigh, used to his antics.

Much to Oikawa’s self-satisfaction, the tofu and ramen both prove to be delicious, and he vows to go there again someday with all four of them. Afterwards, they take the train to the beach and arrive in time to catch the tail-end of the sunset. Oikawa stands there for a minute, enamored with the sapphire waves and salty breeze, the honk of ships in the distance, the purple-pink hues of the sky, grains of fine sand slipping into his sandals. Families and couples are everywhere, on jogs, splashing in shallow waters, picnicking. He takes another picture, a panorama this time.

The fireworks start at ten-thirty sharp when the sky has just darkened to onyx-black, deafening explosions of colour flowering over a boundless canvas. But only half of Oikawa’s attention is on the video he’s taking as he sneaks glances at Matsukawa and Hanamaki, who are standing close enough for their arms to just touch, the tips of their pinkies barely linked.

Because they’ve never been one of those PDA couples, being around them is generally easy. In fact, Oikawa has never even seen them hold hands. But it’s the small gestures, so subtle anyone would miss them unless they were looking: the hip checks as they shuffle into cramped restaurant seats, too gentle to be classified as checks, really; the casual brush of hands as one wordlessly passes the soy sauce to the other without having to be asked; the fingers that hook into a belt loop under the table, not doing anything, just _there_ , that Oikawa caught once only because he’d dropped his chopstick; or how Hanamaki leans into Matsukawa’s space sometimes, like he’s being pulled, and how Matsukawa’s smirks brighten into smiles when Hanamaki’s name is mentioned in passing.

All of it makes Oikawa ache with envy. He wants that so badly, to be able to touch without the guise of provocation, a simple, honest expression of the overflowing affection he guards in his chest.

For a second, he thinks back to the kiss from that morning and his heart swells from giddiness as he imagines that maybe he _can_ touch Iwaizumi that way now.

Then he remembers that it’s different. He’s just a substitute with a six-month expiry date.

But perhaps, if he’s careful enough, if he’s good enough, Iwaizumi won’t want to let him go.

Oikawa turns his attention back to the video he’s recording. There’s no regret involved in his decision, but he’s been on an emotional rollercoaster ever since Iwaizumi agreed: one second he’s dizzy with the possibilities, the next he’s despondent that he’ll never truly get what he wants, then he’s dead-set on becoming such a good boyfriend Iwaizumi will never be able to leave. It’s a cycle that irreparably leaves him with an ache in his chest, a longing that’s simmered for years as he watched Iwaizumi sleepily toddle around their living room, or found grocery reminders stuck on the fridge in blocky handwriting, or heard a grumpy voice in his ear, close through a phone.

He’s not sure it’ll ever get better.

 

 

Close to midnight, Oikawa’s smiles have become stiff, his limbs heavy, and his daydreams have only gotten longer and more substantive. Maybe it’s because he’s getting old, but socializing has become draining in recent years, even if it’s just Hanamaki and Matsukawa.

The last straw is when Hanamaki casually says, “Y’know, he’ll pretend to be annoyed, but I bet Iwaizumi will love the pictures and videos you’ve been taking all day for him,” and then somehow the natural progression of that is they end up at an izakaya because what better way to treat lovesickness than to destroy his brain cells with alcohol?

Oikawa slumps in his stool, humming as he stares off into space, probably looking high as a kite but too burned out to care.

“You sleepy already?” Hanamaki asks, poking him. “Maybe we should get you home.”

Oikawa wants to agree but can’t find the energy to get up so he collapses onto the bar counter instead, face pressed into the sticky wood. “I miiiiss himmm,” he whines into his arms, “Iwa-chaaaannn.”

His friends sip at their drinks, pity and amusement equal in their expressions. “You’re worse than usual today,” Matsukawa comments. “Did something happen?”

Oikawa musters a glare at him. “No.”

“He can’t still be at work, can he? Send him a text.”

“No...that’s too...clingy.”

“Not like he doesn’t already know how clingy you are.”

“Rude, Makki...I...okay, I am, but...”

“Wow, dude, you’re wasted already.”

“He’s nicer to me when I’m drunk,” Oikawa mumbles, half to himself. Hanamaki and Matsukawa exchange a look over their drinks.

"So you got yourself drunk on purpose," Matsukawa deadpans. 

"It wasn't on purpose! I've just been having a rough day, okay?"

Hanamaki rolls his eyes. “And Iwaizumi is literally the nicest person I know, even when you’re not drunk.”

“I know that!” Oikawa snaps. “Of course I do! I just mean...I just mean that he acts more gentle...more like...more like I’m precious or something. Ugggghhhhh. Why doesn’t he like me? Iwa-chaaan.”

“Oikawa...” Matsukawa starts, and then seems not to know how to continue, so he puts a hand on his friend’s hair, ruffling gently. Oikawa nuzzles into it, appreciative.

“What’s with him today?” Hanamaki whispers. “Fuck, I wish we could do something about this whole stupid situation.”

Matsukawa nods solemnly. “It’ll take time, though,” he says under his breath, but not quiet enough to escape Oikawa’s attention. “You know Iwaizumi, he’s not...he doesn’t fee—”

Oikawa doesn’t want to hear the end of that sentence. “I’m going home,” he announces, swaying off his seat. “Bye.”

“Wait for us, we’ll go with you.” Hanamaki leaps to his feet. “You’ll trip and die and then Iwaizumi will kill us.”

Oikawa shakes his head. “No. Bye.” And then he stumbles his way out, ignoring his friends’ cursing. He vaguely hears them following from a distance, but that doesn’t matter. He’s tipsy but not enough to lose his memories the next morning, and the glowing beacon of home ( _Iwaizumi_ ) is still very clear in his mental map.

Minutes later, he bangs triumphantly on the door. His best friend opens it immediately in his sleep shirt and sweats. “What the hell were you thinking, you idiot?” he demands, effortlessly catching Oikawa in his arms like he knew the taller man would lunge for him the second the door opened. “If Hanamaki and Matsukawa didn't make sure you got back in one piece, I’d be lecturing you so hard right now.”

“You already aaaaare, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa complains as he nuzzles into Iwaizumi’s soapy-smelling neck, exploiting the way Iwaizumi’s more receptive to his snuggling whenever Oikawa’s incapacitated. “Are you my mom?”

Iwaizumi clicks his tongue, bodily dragging him in and pulling the door shut. He’s warm, and strong, and earnest and caring. “I have to take care of you like one, that’s for sure. Now kick your shoes off already. I should be sleeping by this time, goddammit.”

Guilt floods Oikawa. He pushes himself off Iwaizumi’s chest. “You can go sleep, Iwa-chan. I’m not that drunk.”

“Not that drunk, my ass. You reek of alcohol. Now go pass out, and no showering or else you’ll trip and die.”

“Why does everyone think I’ll trip and die?! Stop cursing me!”

“No one is cursing you, it’s just the truth,” Iwaizumi says flatly and gently prods him forward. “Sleep. You can blab about the fireworks tomorrow. ‘Night.”

Oikawa sighs in defeat and totters towards his bedroom. “Goodnight, Iwa-chan. Sleep tight.”

“Actually, wait, Oikawa.”

He turns around. “Yes?”

Iwaizumi’s gaze drops in a rare display of hesitance and something that looks alarmingly like discomfort. Oikawa feels his gut tighten. “Uh...about this morning,” Iwaizumi begins, and Oikawa’s fatigue instantly evaporates. All of a sudden, he feels like an idiot, dread gripping him with its icy fingers, trailing up his legs.

“Sorry, Iwa-chan,” he smiles apologetically. “But I’m actually really tired. Can we talk another time?”

“Oh,” Iwaizumi says, expression undecipherable. “Yeah, sure. Go sleep, then.”

“Goodnight,” Oikawa murmurs, and hurriedly heads in.

He hides in his room for the rest of the night even though sleep doesn’t find him until his windows have begun to brighten.

* * *

_Day 2._

Oikawa forces himself to go to practice despite the bruises under his eyes that make him look like some kind of psychopath. Iwaizumi rarely sees him off to the door when Oikawa’s the one who needs to leave earlier, since he sleeps like the dead, and for once, Oikawa is grateful. Throughout the rest of the day, he and Iwaizumi text like usual, things like “ _what do you want for dinner Iwa-chan ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿_ ” and “ _i’m kinda craving sushi._ ” Oikawa stresses about The Incident all the way until Iwaizumi gets home, but it seems like the other man’s gotten over whatever he’d been worried about the night before. Relieved, Oikawa tries to purge it all from his mind.

The next three days pass in much the same way: practice, practice, and more practice, to the point where he could almost say he’s forgotten he and Iwaizumi are technically supposed to be dating now.

Really, it’s the only thing he ever thinks about. But there’s no way he’s bringing it up after seeing that grimace on Iwaizumi’s face.

* * *

_Day 7._

On his following rest day, he lies in bed, contemplating whether he should get up to see Iwaizumi off. It’s tradition by now; he doesn’t want to come off as weird or awkward or anything, so he hauls his ass up and to the door. But the scene just reminds him of the last time they were in this situation. An ugly feeling wells up in his chest at the memory.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Iwaizumi says as he pulls his shoes on, as if he doesn’t know his roommate’s a light sleeper and always wakes at the sounds of him getting ready.

“That’s ‘cause you’re banging around like a caveman, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa huffs. “Do you have your bento?”

Iwaizumi holds up his briefcase. “In here.”

“Okay. Well, have a nice day.”

“See you tonight.” Iwaizumi steps for the door, one hand half-raised to return Oikawa’s wave.

But he stops. He stands there for a beat, motionless. Oikawa watches in confusion, and then Iwaizumi is abruptly spinning back around and taking two large strides towards him.

“Wh—” Oikawa gets out, but Iwaizumi has him by the arm and he’s being tugged sharply forward. Oikawa squeezes his eyes shut, readying himself for some kind of impact.

Iwaizumi kisses him on the cheek.

Oikawa gasps out loud. When the other man pulls away, he’s still frozen, naked to the curious, contemplative gaze that roams over his face. Iwaizumi smiles, small and hesitant. “I gotta go now. Later.”

Oikawa helplessly watches him leave, heart jackhammering in his chest.

* * *

_Day 10._

He thinks about the kiss all the time, the memory popping up when he’s eating, on the bus, on a jog, talking to his friends. It’s the first tangible indication that Iwaizumi isn’t entirely repulsed by the idea of a more-than-friends relationship with him, and Oikawa has never been so simultaneously scared and hopeful in his life.

In hindsight, he should’ve thought more about what he wants from this six-month period. That first kiss was a result of impulse and thrill combined, and now that it’s been over a week, he’s stopped worrying about how to keep Iwaizumi from falling into the hands of thirsty gay boys, and more about what he should be expecting of this whole thing, as a thirsty gay boy.

His next day off, he wakes up much too early and has to stay in bed, walking himself through deep-breathing exercises as he wills his limbs not to tremble. The moment he steps into the living room, he’s waiting, anticipating, afraid and excited.

Iwaizumi doesn’t disappoint, pulling him closer after their customary banter, smoothly this time. The kiss on his cheek is chaste but warm, and Oikawa feels a little bit like crying. His knees threaten to give out, but he quickly leans in to press his lips to Iwaizumi’s cheek in return. Was that weird? Do couples kiss each other on the cheeks goodbye? Oh, it’s usually only done from one person to the other, isn’t it? Crap, did he mess up, was it too eager—but he wanted to so badly—

Oikawa continues to freak out as he pulls away, sucking in his bottom lip to gnaw it on it. Iwaizumi’s looking at him wryly, a corner of his mouth tilted up. The undercurrent of fondness in his expression has Oikawa short of breath. “Shittykawa,” he says lowly, nothing more, and then he’s off to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> personally i prefer to read longer chapters, so i hope you'll excuse the shortness of these first two ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	3. Day 17

_Day 17._

Oikawa is sprawled on the couch, half-zoning out, half-paying attention to the dumb variety show playing on TV when his phone rings. He groans, stretching for the table and tapping around until he finally feels it. “Hellooooo,” he croons without checking the caller ID, “you have reached 1-800-ALIENS, please state the time and location of your alien sight—”

_“Why. Why do you insist on making my life miserable.”_

“Aww, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa coos, flopping over and grinning at the ceiling. “How’s my favourite little porcupine doing?”

_“...I’m hanging up, dickhead.”_

He snickers. “Grumpy as usual, I see.”

_“Your existence gives me high blood pressure.”_

“WOW. I think you mispronounced ‘you are the joy of my life.’”

_“Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that.”_

Oikawa laughs, shifting so he’s hanging upside down, hair brushing the floor. “So, why’d you call, Iwa-chan? Did you miss my melodic voice?”

Iwaizumi scoffs, his chair squeaking in the background. _“I just wanted to let you know that I’m getting off work early today. Was your practice game today or tomorrow?”_

“Tomorrow,” Oikawa replies in mounting excitement. “So you’re free tonight?”

_“Yeah.”_

Oikawa gasps. With Iwaizumi’s work schedule fluctuating from week to week and Oikawa’s generally early days, they rarely get to spend time together, save for the occasional dinner or mutual day off. The prospect of getting an entire evening to themselves has Oikawa’s knee bouncing.

Secretly, he wonders if it could also be his first opportunity to go on a date with Iwaizumi after two whole weeks of ‘dating,’ which he’s begun to think might not be too, too weird. Excitement swells in his chest. “Let’s do something! We haven’t gone out together in ages.”

 _“Fine,”_ Iwaizumi sighs in that faux-annoyed tone. _“But I’ll probably have to eat an early dinner at work first, finish up a few things.”_

“I can bring you takeout! What do you want?”

_“Whatever you’re having is fine.”_

“Okay.” Oikawa leaps up, already imagining their perfect evening. “I’ll see you in a couple hours then?”

_“Sure. Bye.”_

 

 

The lobby of Iwaizumi’s workplace is glass and monochromes, high ceilings and muted walnut floors. It’s elegant and fancy, but Oikawa struts past all the harrowed-looking businessmen for the front desk, completely at ease in his t-shirt and jeans.

“Mayumi-chan!” he sings, draping himself artfully over the counter. “Long time no see!”

“It’s only been about three weeks,” she giggles and hands him a guest pass.

Oikawa takes it daintily, laying a hand on his forehead. “You’ve been keeping track. I feel so loved.”

“But of course! You’re my favourite, Oikawa-san.”

“What an absolute angel. Why can’t Iwa-chan be more like you?”

Mayumi’s smile is knowing. “I’m sure you’re Iwaizumi-san’s favourite as well. Speaking of, he should be waiting for you in his office.”

“I shan’t keep him waiting then~ Have a marvelous night!” He blows her a kiss and prances for the elevators. The ride up passes as he finishes whistling his tune, and he swiftly navigates the hallways, enjoying the quietness. Most of the employees have left for the day, cubicles and offices alike empty, the orange sky casting warmth and shadow across the floor. He waves at the few people he recognizes from interviews they’ve done together, exchanging quick pleasantries before reaching Iwaizumi’s office, its door propped open.

Iwaizumi is at his desk typing something. He’s unaffected by the darkening windows, all scowly in concentration, an expression that has reportedly scared many a new co-worker. Oikawa grins and lets himself admire the cuteness for a minute. “Hey,” Iwaizumi greets without looking away from his monitor. “Stop being a creep.”

“Rude! I’m perfectly non-creepy, thank you very much!”

“Sure. So what’d you bring? I’m starving.”

“Waffles!” Oikawa reports.

Iwaizumi stops clicking and shoots him a puzzled look. “For dinner?”

“What, it’s not like there’s a rule that you’re not allowed to eat waffles for dinner. I brought salmon and cream cheese, your favourite.” Oikawa holds up two packages, one wrapped in Godzilla-patterned cloth, the other in neon orange aliens. Iwaizumi cringes.

“Do you have to use those every time?”

“I don’t understand what you mean,” Oikawa sniffs. “Mayumi-chan thinks they’re adorable.”

“Stop terrorizing Kasahara-san, the poor girl.”

“Excuse you, but she literally tells me that I’m her favourite. Now put away your work and eat, Iwa-chan, it’s already six! You were off an hour ago!”

Iwaizumi sighs and rolls his chair away from the computer without complaint, tucking his tie into his breast pocket. Oikawa unpacks the food as he launches into a story about their newest setter who was recruited fresh from college for his skill but has the worst attitude ever, despite his pretty face.

“And he’s totally disrespectful of his senpai, especially the captain,” Oikawa scoffs, stuffing waffle into his mouth. “And not in the annoying-but-somewhat-cute way that you and Makki and Mattsun were disrespectful of me, mind you.”

Iwaizumi hums distractedly, cutting off a third of his own waffle and dropping it in Oikawa’s container.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa spears it and puts it back. “You gave me too much, what are you gonna eat?”

“But you like salmon and cream cheese too,” Iwaizumi says, like that makes everything fine, his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk’s.

“No! You just said you were starving. I’m fine, I have my own. Actually, did you wanna try some of this one? It’s good.”

Iwaizumi eyes the proffered piece in disgust as syrup and ice cream drip off of it. “You’re gonna die of diabetes. And wouldn’t your coach kick your ass for eating that?”

“Shhh, it’s my cheat day.” Oikawa winks, swirling the waffle in even more syrup to watch Iwaizumi flinch, but the latter doesn’t retort, returning to his own meal. They sit in comfortable silence for a while, until Iwaizumi clears his throat.

“By the way,” he says nonchalantly in that way that means he’s actually very deliberately asking, “have you told Hanamaki and Matsukawa that we’re dating?”

Waffle lodges itself in Oikawa’s throat and he chokes, smacking a fist to his chest. Iwaizumi shoves a cup of tea at him, glaring in alarm.

“What the fuck, chew your food.”

“Wh-what?” Oikawa gasps out. He grabs the tea and chugs it, mind whirling. He’s been avoiding the Dating subject ever since the first time they talked about it and really wasn’t expecting Iwaizumi to bring it up any time soon. “Um, no?”

“Why not?” Iwaizumi’s dark gaze is impassive but unshakable. Oikawa feels like he’s being seen through.

“It just—never came up,” he tries for the half-truth. His bitterness towards Matsukawa’s ‘betrayal’ has long since worn off, but honestly, he just doesn’t want anyone to know. When the relationship ends in six months, he doesn’t want anything to change, doesn’t want Iwaizumi to feel guilty or uncomfortable when he’s inevitably interrogated.

He especially doesn’t want to deal with Matsukawa and Hanamaki’s pity when they learn that Oikawa wasn’t good enough to keep him.

“I thought you told them everything,” Iwaizumi comments, finally looking away, and Oikawa exhales in relief.

“What, does Iwa-chan want to show me off to everyone?” he goads, laughing lightly.

Iwaizumi says, “No.”

The single word makes the sweet fluffiness of the waffle in Oikawa’s mouth turn into cardboard. He laughs again, focusing all of his attention on rolling a walnut around with his fork.

“I’m just saying I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to tell them.” Iwaizumi shrugs. “They’d have a field day, though.”

Oikawa ups the oomph of his smile. “Well, it’s not a big deal. I’ll mention it if it comes up.”

Iwaizumi makes an affirmative sound, and doesn’t say any more.

 

 

By the time they’re at the new movie theatre that just opened up in one of the downtown train stations, Oikawa has valiantly put the conversation behind him. After all, they’ll still be 'dating' for the next five or so months, and he plans on living it to the fullest, making enough precious memories to last him the rest of his life.

As usual, Iwaizumi wants to watch action and special effects and Oikawa’s raring to see the new alien thriller, but if chick flicks have taught him anything, it’s that only two genres are acceptable on dates: chick flicks or horror. And Oikawa can’t do horror, so chick flick it is.

“Really?” Iwaizumi groans as the ticket girl hands them their stubs. “Our first time at a movie theatre in years and you had to pick the one with the sparkly pink poster.”

“Don’t worry, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa puffs out his chest. “When we get to the touching scenes, Oikawa-san will wipe your tears for you.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes so hard Oikawa worries they’ll fall out of his head.

For a Friday night viewing, the theatre isn’t as packed as it could be, so they’re able to find two seats that are relatively isolated near the back. Oikawa hugs the popcorn to his chest, stuffing handfuls into his face as they sit through the commercials.

“You’re gonna finish that thing before the movie even starts,” Iwaizumi hisses, whacking him on the shoulder. “And stop hogging it.” Oikawa whines but nudges the bag between them, and Iwaizumi reaches over the armrest, grabbing popcorn for himself.

As expected, the plot of the movie is unremarkable, but the protagonist is relatable enough, so Oikawa lets himself get sucked into it. The way Iwaizumi’s arm periodically brushes against his when they reach for the popcorn makes goosebumps break out on his skin, but it’s nothing years of pining haven’t taught him to handle. He’s completely invested in how Ayaka-chan is slowly but surely winning over her man (and mentally taking notes) when something bright at the corner of his eye catches his attention. He turns to find Iwaizumi shielding his phone screen with one hand and typing with the other. Oikawa grumbles under his breath but figures it must be something important if he’s texting during the climax of the movie, so he ignores it and fumbles for some popcorn.

Except it keeps. On. Happening.

By the sixth time Iwaizumi pulls out his phone, Oikawa is seething at both him and whoever is messaging him. It’s their long-awaited evening out, and sure, Iwaizumi might not particularly enjoy the genre, but texting while you’re with someone else is rude in general, isn’t it? Especially since Iwaizumi _never_ texts during movies, even the ones he hates. He’s sat through entire alien movie marathons with Oikawa before, griping and moaning the entire time, but watching all the same.

Annoyed and a little hurt, Oikawa scoots closer to Iwaizumi as discreetly as he can, millimeter by millimeter. He peeks over Iwaizumi’s shoulder to scan his screen.

 _Haha_ , a text from Yamamoto Mai says. _What about Hajime-san? (#^^#)_

 

 

“So what did you think of the movie?” Oikawa chirps as they exit the theatre, walking three steps ahead of Iwaizumi.

“It actually wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” Iwaizumi admits reluctantly. “Her resolve was...endearing, I guess.”

“Oh, really.” Oikawa pulls his prettiest smile, crushing the empty popcorn bag into a ball with one hand and hurling it straight into a trash can. “I’m surprised Iwa-chan caught that much, seeing as he was texting ‘Mai-chan’ the whole time.”

Iwaizumi’s first reaction is indignation. “Was not.”

“Yes, you were,” Oikawa snaps.

Sensing his genuine ire, Iwaizumi’s tone melts into something more like guilt. “She’s one of our new interns and needed help with work. Stop with the face.”

“Don’t tell me what to do with my own face.” Oikawa quickens his stride, refusing to turn and let Iwaizumi see his undoubtedly ugly expression. He knows he’s being stupid. He knows he’s being unreasonable and selfish, but that doesn’t make the pain in his stomach go away.

This isn’t like him. He’s supposed to be able to hide his emotions better, so he doesn’t know what’s wrong with himself lately, and that frustration is almost worse than his jealousy.

“Oikawa!” Iwaizumi catches him with a hand around his wrist, and Oikawa tries to shake him off before giving up and letting him drag them to a corner behind some vending machines. “What the hell’s your problem?”

He glares down at his feet, stubbornly not saying anything. He messed up. He let the fantasy get to his head, and now he’s acting like a total asshole.

Or so he tries to tell himself, and a part of him does feel sorry, but he can’t help thinking that this situation is different. He’s been hurt so many times over the course of his unrequited love, but this time. This time, he can’t forgive. The name that he had been forced to give up because it was “weird,” because it was “too intimate,” another one of the impenetrable walls between Oikawa and what he wants. But some random faceless girl gets to call Iwaizumi by it, effortlessly. She gets to interrupt the date that Oikawa has been waiting his whole life for, she gets to easily steal away Iwaizumi’s attention, even though Oikawa has worked so hard just to get to where he is now.

Seconds tick by in silence, Oikawa too mad and scared to glance up at Iwaizumi’s face, and his best friend dutifully waits, even though his fingers are gradually tightening around Oikawa’s wrist.

But Oikawa doesn’t cave. At length, Iwaizumi exhales roughly and releases him, reaching into his pocket for his phone. Oikawa stares in disbelief, watching him thumb in the passcode.

“What the fuck are you do—” he manages, but then to his bewilderment, Iwaizumi is shoving the phone at him.

“Read it,” he says gruffly.

Oikawa’s eyes bounce from him to the phone, and back up again. Iwaizumi shoves it into his chest, gritting his teeth. “Read it,” he repeats. Oikawa reluctantly takes the phone. It’s open to the conversation between Iwaizumi and the girl.

 **Yamamoto Mai:**  
Iwaizumi-senpai! Sorry for bothering you when you’re off, but I just had a question about the Datekou spreadsheet, if you don’t mind?

 **Me:**  
Sure. Shoot.

 **Yamamoto Mai:**  
For Column J, I see that we’re using formula 3 to calculate potential of players, but wouldn’t formula 2 make more sense? I’m not sure we need to be so specific for an estimate.

 **Me:**  
Formula 3 takes into account past injuries and possible disagreements that may arise if the player is switched to a different team. You’re right that the formula itself is bullshit because trying to calculate a player’s potential using numbers is stupid, but the higher-ups wanted the most accurate numerical representation.

 **Yamamoto Mai:**  
Oh, I see! I didn’t know that. Thanks so much, Iwaizumi-senpai.

 **Me:**  
No problem. You don’t have to call me Iwaizumi-senpai, by the way. I know it’s long.

 **Yamamoto Mai:**  
Ah! Shortening it would definitely be helpful, although I wouldn’t want to be too forward. Iwa-san? Or what was Iwaizumi-senpai’s first name again...?

 **Yamamoto Mai:**  
Haha, what about Hajime-san? (#^^#)

 **Yamamoto Mai:**  
Feels a little weird! (#ﾟﾛﾟ#)

 **Me:**  
I was actually thinking just senpai would be fine. lol

 **Yamamoto Mai:**  
Oh my goodness.

 **Yamamoto Mai:**  
Yes, I have no idea how that option slipped my mind!! I’m so sorry! Please excuse my rudeness! (;´Д`) Yes, that would be great!

 **Me:**  
Nah, no worries. See you Monday.

 **Yamamoto Mai:**  
Yes, senpai! Thank you again.

Oikawa swallows, staring blankly at the conversation, his face burning so hot he could probably heat up a small village in the Arctic. Iwaizumi gently takes the phone from his grasp when the screen goes black, and Oikawa’s arms fall to his sides.

“The new intern needed help,” Iwaizumi reiterates, voice devoid of humour or exasperation or any other intonation: a simple, factual statement.

Oikawa blinks hard, reaching up to rub a hand over the nape of his neck, then dropping it to stick both hands in his pockets. He licks his lips, swallows a couple of times. “Well. I see Iwa-chan types with proper grammar to his kouhai.”

“ _That’s_ what you—” Iwaizumi groans. “Yeah, I do, okay? Is that a problem?”

“So why do you type without punctuation or capitals or anything with me?” Oikawa pushes, even though that’s really not what he wants to say.

“Why would I? I can just do whatever is comfortable with you.”

“Iwa-chan is just lazy,” Oikawa sniffs. Iwaizumi throws his arms in the air, looking ready to stomp off, even though Oikawa knows he won’t. “’m sorry,” he finally says quietly, curling his toes in his shoes. “I thought—well. I thought wrong. And. I just...I was mad that...” Oikawa trails off, not knowing how to explain himself. “I mean, because we never get to go out together, so. But you were...yeah.”

He can feel the other’s stare boring into him, but Iwaizumi is silent for a long moment. Then he says, “Were you jealous?”

Oikawa’s bottom lip trembles. He stares hard at Iwaizumi’s feet. “H-Haha, what—”

“Because you have the right, you know.”

Oikawa’s head snaps up, eyes wide. Iwaizumi is watching him with that contemplative, amused look that’s become so familiar lately, arms crossed over his chest. "Huh?"

"I said, you have the right," Iwaizumi repeats.

“Well, I mean, I guess,” Oikawa stammers. “Ignoring your best friend for some girl, and she called you Hajime too—”

“Not that, idiot. I meant, I’m your boyfriend, after all. You’re allowed to get jealous.”

Oikawa blinks at him. He breathes around the lump in his throat, nails digging into the cloth of his pockets. “Oh,” he says. He blinks a couple more times, and Iwaizumi’s smirk just gets wider and wider. Oikawa feels something like hysteria bubbling up in his chest, and he straightens up. “Right.”

They stare at each other for a minute longer, until Oikawa can’t stand the tension any longer and a bit of that hysteria escapes in a laugh. “So...that means you’re not allowed to go around seducing other people, right? Since that would be extremely...ungentlemanly.”

Iwaizumi snorts, eyes slitting into tiny crescents. He punches Oikawa in the shoulder, lighter than he usually does. “I won’t, so don’t worry.”

Oikawa blinks again. Finally, he collects himself and nods firmly. “Right. You'd better not."

"I already said I wouldn't, Shittykawa."

"Good." Oikawa juts out his chin. "And for the record, I was not _jealous_. Jealousy is a mob character emotion. I was simply annoyed because dating Oikawa-san is a huge privilege, okay. D’you know how many people would kill to date me!”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get ahead of yourself there.”

“If you ever cheat on me, you know I’ll throw you into Tokyo Bay, right!”

“Good thing I’m a strong swimmer then.”

“IWA-CHAN!”

 

 

Somehow, they find themselves outside the train station in a sea of people, and Iwaizumi tells him to stay before returning with two bags of taiyaki, handing Oikawa the custard flavour and biting into his matcha red-bean one. Oikawa digs in, tired and hungry after that whole debacle. It all feels very anti-climactic, and he thinks he’ll need at least one night’s worth of good sleep to absorb everything that happened today. He'll have to analyze the entire conversation later, try to figure out what the hell Iwaizumi meant exactly. But right now, he's just weary, and half of him is convinced he dreamed it all up. There’s an itch under his skin that won’t go away, something that’s not quite discomfort; it feels like he’s missing something, but he doesn’t know what, and it leaves him feeling disconcerted.

“D’you still want to go shopping?” Iwaizumi asks, settling beside him on the bench. At the thought of walking around with Iwaizumi and looking at shiny new things, Oikawa instantly abandons all of his worries and comes back to life.

“Of course!” he huffs. “The night is young. Midnight snacks! Shops that never close! Streets that never darken! Tokyo is amazing.”

“What did you want to buy again?”

“New kneepads, mine are getting worn out.”

“Hm. The usual place, then.”

“Yuuup. Let’s go see if they have those Jordans that you’ve been obsessing over, too!”

Iwaizumi sighs. “The new gen is so out of my budget.”

“But they’re sooooo nice. And it’s okay, we’re just looking. Doesn’t cost anything to try them on.” Oikawa doesn’t mention that he’s already talked the nice lady manager into giving him a discount, and that all he needs now is to confirm the size and colour. Iwaizumi’s birthday isn’t for a while, but a spontaneous present never hurt anybody.

 

 

Iwaizumi’s gaze is trained on his reflection—specifically, the shiny pair of shoes on his feet, black with a sleek red trim. Oikawa circles him with a critical eye.

“All right, those look _so_ good,” he decides. “Your clothes are all black-white shades or, like, dark blues, so those shoes would _pop_.”

Iwaizumi groans, falling into a chair. “I don’t need them, though. I mean, how much of the time am I not in a suit?”

“That’s not true,” Oikawa protests, counting on his fingers. “You go to the gym almost every day, and you come to my volleyball games, and we’ll finally get to hang out more since your busy season is almost over!”

“I guess...” Iwaizumi concedes. “My old sneakers are sort of dying, too.”

“Yeah, I looked at them the other day and was like, they’re looking a teensy bit worn out. Oh, but!” Oikawa catches himself, “if you think they’re a little pricey, you can always wait. They might go on sale or something. No need to rush, right, hahaha...”

Iwaizumi doesn’t notice his awkward backgracking in the midst of his own angsting. “Yeah, that’s true. Whatever, I’ll just come back when I’m bored to admire them or something.”

Oikawa grins, flashing a thumbs-up. “Good thinking, Iwa-chan!”

“You have your shit?”

“Huh?” Oikawa blinks down at the kneepads tucked under his arm. He almost forgot about them. He doesn’t even need new ones, it was just an excuse to get Iwaizumi to the store. “Oh! Right. I’ll go pay for this first, actually, you take your time and look around.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says absent-mindedly, drifting towards the volleyball gear.

The manager had shot him a wink when Oikawa entered and is already eagerly waiting for him at the cashier station when he hurries over. She’s as friendly as he remembers, engaging and familiar in a way that makes him remind himself to call his mother more often. “Is he the one?” she prompts, eyes gleaming. “Your best friend?”

“Yes!” Oikawa beams, chest puffed out in pride. “He’s a star sports journalist who specializes in volleyball and also happens to be the best wing spiker I know!”

“Quite the handsome boy, all rugged and grouchy-looking.” Manager-san waggles her eyebrows. “Your boyfriend, am I right?”

Oikawa blushes. “No, no, why would you think that...”

She bellows out a laugh, slapping his back. He doesn't mention that that grouchiness is part of what makes Iwaizumi so attractive, because he already knows how she'd respond to _that_.

“Ah, young love,” she sighs wistfully. “How nostalgic. My husband used to be an athlete too, you know. Now he just lies on the couch all day ‘cause his pot belly’s too heavy to carry anywhere.”

“Oh, don’t be so modest, ma’am, I’m sure someone as dazzling as you would have a super hottie for a husband!” Oikawa winks. The lady titters, slapping him on the shoulder. Oikawa ruminates on the mental image she presented him with, though, trying to imagine what it would be like if Iwaizumi got like that too. His best friend doesn't strike him as the type of person who would ever stop moving around, but in the case that it does happen, Oikawa thinks he wouldn’t mind just getting fat with Iwaizumi and lying on the couch together all day. Somehow, the manager looks like she can tell what he's thinking, her face twisted into something that looks like it’ll start cooing at him, accompanied by gratuitous cheek-pinching. Oikawa quickly says, “Anyway, he wants the red and black ones, size XX, please.”

Her you-are-so-young-and-adorable smile widens into something sinister. “Big feet,” she leers, leaning closer. “You know what they say about that.”

Oikawa stands frozen in mortification, feeling himself heat from the collar all the way up to his hairline.

“What? You guys haven’t done it yet?”

“Th-that’s kinda private—”

“So you haven’t! Such pure souls in this day and age!”

“It’s just that I’m too precious, you know?” Oikawa laughs, high-pitched. “Iwa-chan needs to work a little harder before he can get a piece of this, right? Haha! Anyway, payment by cash!” He slaps a short stack on the counter. “Pick-up Monday? Great, thanks so much for your help, GOODBYE.” He walks away as quickly as he can without breaking into a run, heart pounding. Oikawa’s no virgin, but just the thought of that—that—his best friend’s— _Iwaizumi Hajime’s_ —

Not that he hasn’t had some racy dreams before, but this is all hitting a tad too close to home.

His dash slows to a walk when he finds Iwaizumi bouncing a volleyball against the ground, frowning, then returning it to pick up a different ball. Oikawa’s attention slides down his body towards—no, no, no, _no_. Nope.

At that moment, Iwaizumi catches sight of Oikawa and does a double take.

“Shittykawa, do you have a fever?”

“NO, IWA-CHAN, SHUT UP.”

 

 

Outside, the heat and humidity of daytime have cooled for a comfortable March night. Oikawa sighs happily, swinging his bag of kneepads back and forth. “I’m glad we decided to go with this area. It’s so peaceful and quiet, kind of reminds me of Miyagi.”

“You were raving about how great Tokyo was an hour ago,” Iwaizumi says flatly, ever the partypooper. But his shoulders are loose, the way they get after a long week of work with the promise of the weekend ahead, hands in his trouser pockets. Oikawa admires the way the breeze ruffles his jet-black hair and how the dim streetlights soften his features.

“That’s different! I wouldn’t want to sleep where it’s always noisy! A little bit away from the metropolis is perfect. And the air,” he takes a long sniff, “smells like home.”

Iwaizumi inhales deeply from beside him. “It...actually does, for some weird reason.”

“See? Oikawa-san is always right.”

“Gross.”

Oikawa snickers and sticks out his tongue, which Iwaizumi makes a face at.

They walk without speaking for a while, enjoying the serenity of the night and the rhythmic sound of their sneakers crunching on gravel. Oikawa loves it. Being with Iwaizumi warms his insides, the type of warmth he’d get from sitting in front of a log fire on a snowy day. It doesn’t matter if they’re talking or not; doing nothing alone versus doing nothing with Iwaizumi by his side makes a world of difference.

At a sudden touch against his palm, Oikawa jolts out of his reverie and looks down, hoping his nasty, mushy thoughts weren’t somehow showing on his face.

To his confusion, he finds that it’s Iwaizumi’s hand against his, the backs of their hands grazing, too firmly to be an accident. He watches as Iwaizumi shifts, the tips of his fingers sliding to press against Oikawa’s palm. Oikawa looks up, but the other is resolutely studying the road ahead of them, a muscle in his jaw twitching. The two of them leisurely continue down the path. Oikawa can’t feel his legs.

His eyes fall back down to their hands, where Iwaizumi’s is slowly beginning to drift down, and then his fingers slip between Oikawa’s, curling. Gently, he squeezes once.

Oikawa gawks. When his hand remains limp, Iwaizumi presses their palms together more tightly, squeezing again. His thumb lazily brushes over Oikawa’s skin, back and forth, back and forth.

Oikawa finds his voice. “I-Iwa-chan? What are you doing?”

He expects an answer along the lines of _what, you got a problem?_ Or _stop being dramatic_. Or even _isn’t this what boyfriends are supposed to do?_ He expects defensiveness and playfulness, with the underlying implication of _I agreed to be Oikawa’s boyfriend, so it’s my responsibility to act like it_.

But he only gets the first part right. “What, you got a problem?” Iwaizumi turns to glare him straight in the eye. “I wanted to.”

“You wanted to?” Oikawa echoes dumbly, unable to bring himself to put emphasis on ‘you.’

Iwaizumi raises a brow in challenge. “Yeah. _I_ wanted to.” When Oikawa fails to respond, Iwaizumi’s bravado fades and his gaze falls away. “Is this okay?”

Oikawa’s breath is coming and going so quickly that his head feels light. “Yes!” he blurts, finally finding the nerve to grip Iwaizumi’s hand back. It’s an utterly unfamiliar touch. He’s held hands before, but not with a person who really matters, and it’s a weird, invasive feeling, having that someone’s fingers resting in the grooves of his own. Iwaizumi’s skin isn’t exactly calloused, but it isn’t smooth, either. It’s also too hot, too stuffy (never mind that he’d just thought about what a nice cool evening it was), they’re wearing too much to be holding hands and Oikawa’s definitely sweating like a pig right now.

But he can’t bear the thought of letting go.

“Hey, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi interrupts his whirlwind of overthinking.

Oikawa clears his throat. “Y-Yes, Iwa-chan?”

“Was today a date?” Iwaizumi asks, eyes sharp with interest.

“Uhh.” Oikawa shrugs. “Did you want it to be?”

“I don’t know.” Iwaizumi mirrors his shrug. “It’s just that today was the same as what we usually do when we hang out, so I wasn’t sure.”

Oikawa barks out a laugh. “Well, I think you can do whatever you want on dates. It doesn’t have to be anything special. Haven’t you heard of study dates? It’s when two people literally sit there and study together, and it’s still called a date.”

“That’s dumb,” Iwaizumi says bluntly. “You should either study or go on a date, not both.”

“Only Iwa-chan cares about those kinds of semantics!” Oikawa bumps their shoulders together. “Dates can be fluid, y’know! Just like relationships!”

Iwaizumi whips around to stare at him, and Oikawa cowers a little. “What? What did I say?” The dark-haired man just blinks, looking at him, but Oikawa has the feeling he’s not what Iwaizumi is seeing.

“Huh,” he says. “Fluid, eh? I guess that’s true, especially since we’ve been friends for so long. Unfortunately.”

“WOW,” Oikawa cries and attempts to step on Iwaizumi’s foot. “Rude, Iwa-chan! You know you adore me!”

“Stop, moron! If you make me trip, I’m dragging you down with me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i dunno bout u guys but i watched the special ending to season 2 from haikyuu movie 3 and fuckin cried my eyes out what the fuck
> 
> thanks for reading!!! any comments, if you have the chance, are greatly appreciated.


	4. Days 19-25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just wanted to say that i call daichi "daichi" and not "sawamura" bc 1. sawamura is longass to type and i am lazy sorry 2. i feel like the characters call him daichi more often than sawamura in general anyway
> 
> hope you enjoy!!! <3

_Day 19._

“Looks like someone’s in a good mood.”

“Maybe he got lucky over the weekend.”

A snort. “Yeah, right. Most likely possibility is that his dear Iwa-chan was finally able to make some time for him and they went shopping together or something.”

Oikawa gasps, slams his locker shut, and whirls around. “How did you know!” Bokuto tsks and hands two thousand yen to Kuroo. The latter smirks, flicks off a mocking salute before slipping the bill into the back pocket of his jeans. Oikawa gapes.

“For real though, why haven’t we met your Iwa-chan yet?” Kuroo asks, leaning against his locker.

“Only I can call him that,” Oikawa whines, at which the other two snigger. “And of course I’m not gonna let him meet menaces like you guys!” Bokuto gasps, offended.

“Hey, I think we’re pretty damn awesome! Right, bro?”

“Duh, bro. We’re fuckin’ delights.”

Oikawa sighs and slings his bag over his shoulder. “Don’t you have a date to get to, Boku-chan?”

“Oh, shit, yeah! See you guys later!” He grabs his stuff and zooms out in a whirlwind of motion, and Oikawa sighs again. Kuroo eyes him, smirk slanting across his face.

“So...what happened?”

Oikawa pouts as they start heading for the exit. “Stop reading my mind, Kuro-chan.” Kuroo shrugs, holding the door open to let him pass first. If it were any other person, Oikawa would’ve balked (because who opens doors for six-foot-tall athletes), but he's so used to it that he doesn’t even pause, knowing that’s just the type of person Kuroo is. He wonders if it’s unconscious actions like these that got Kuroo the impenetrable (ha) wall that is Karasuno’s former captain. Not for the first time, Oikawa thinks that maybe he could learn a thing or two from him. Yeah, make Iwaizumi swoon with his considerateness or something.

“I mean, you’re kinda making it too easy for me here,” Kuroo drawls. “You’ve sighed approximately five thousand times today, four-thousand of those lovesick, maybe one-thousand in despair.”

Oikawa resists the urge to sigh once more, bottom lip jutting out further. Aside from Matsukawa and Hanamaki, Kuroo is one of his closest friends, given how much time they’ve spent together as part of the national team. The other man is also the most frighteningly intelligent and perceptive person Oikawa knows, which he equal part loathes and loves. And shady first impressions aside, he knows that Kuroo is one of those rare people who actually keeps secrets when they promise to, so technically, Oikawa _could_ talk to him about Iwaizumi.

“I was just wondering,” Oikawa says slowly, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “What’s it like living with your boyfriend?”

Kuroo raises a brow. “In what sense, exactly?”

“Like...do you get nervous around him? I know you’ve been going out for years now, but, y’know...”

Kuroo snorts, the corners of his eyes crinkling in affection that Oikawa knows has nothing to do with him. “You talking about the doki-dokis? ‘Cause hell yeah, I get those pretty much every day and I don’t see them going away anytime soon.”

“Oh,” Oikawa breathes, envious and amazed. “Do you ever wonder if you’re, like, too much though? As in, what if he’s busy and you’re afraid you’re bugging him, or what if you wanna cuddle or something but he isn’t feeling it?”

“Hmm...” Kuroo scratches his chin. “Usually I can read his body language pretty well, so I guess that’s not a huge concern. Or you could always ask, you know. ‘Hey, how busy are you ‘cause I’m gonna bring my laptop in here and watch a drama if you aren’t.’ Something along those lines.”

Oikawa hums in agreement, wondering how he can word his question without outright revealing his current situation. But as always, Kuroo beats him to the punch.

“You worried about crossing a line?”

Oikawa kicks a stray rock, watching it bounce across the pavement. “Yeah.” What he’s really worried about is initiating too much non-platonic contact and grossing Iwaizumi out, or suppressing all his desires and ending up having them explode on Iwaizumi, now that Oikawa knows he’ll be forgiven for an inch. He growls, burying his hands in his hair. “I’M SO FRUSTRATED,” he wails, dragging his palms down his face. “WHAT DO I DOOOO.”

“Must be bad if you’re willingly screwing up your hair like that,” Kuroo comments.

“SHUT IT, ROOSTER-HEAD!”

“Wow, low blow, man. Here I am trying to be a good friend and all.”

Oikawa stiffens, fists still clenched in his hair. “That’s right. You’re my friend. Not Iwa-chan’s.”

Kuroo looks at him like he’s lost it. “Uh. Yeah?”

“That means you’re completely on my side, right?”

“I suppose you could say so?”

“Good.” Oikawa grabs Kuroo’s shoulders in a death grip, eyes shining with crocodile tears. “Because I can’t take it anymore, I have to tell someone but Makki and Mattsun would be put in a difficult position, and you wouldn’t!”

Kuroo reaches up and pats one of his hands, only half-sarcastically. “I’m all ears.”

 

 

 

“Sawamuraaaa, I’m hooome~”

Daichi pops his head out of the kitchen, a soft smile on his face. “Welcome ba—oh, Oikawa! Long time no see. What’s up?”

“Long time no see, Dai-chan!” Oikawa sings, pulling off his loafers one-handedly. “Sorry for dropping by unannounced.”

Daichi rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry about it, I bet Kuroo was the one who dragged you here anyway.”

“Sawamura, can you not say it like I’m that pet cat who’s always bringing in garbage for their owner,” Kuroo laments, sauntering over to his side, standing close enough that Daichi has to look up at him.

“Aren’t you, though.”

“Wow, so that’s what I am to you guys, huh,” Oikawa sniffs. “I see how it is.” The two of them turn to him at the same time with identical smirks on their faces.

“Yeah.”

“Pretty much.”

“Dai-chan!” Oikawa bemoans, slinking over to them, intent on draping himself over the shorter man. “You’ve been hanging out with Kuro-chan too mu—” He cuts himself off, mouth dropping open. “What. In the world. Is that.”

Daichi blinks at him. “What?”

Oikawa holds up a finger, horrified. “Is that...is that an apron?”

Daichi’s face explodes in colour as Kuroo simultaneously bursts into hyena cackles, doubling over, and the former immediately ducks back into the kitchen, hands over his face. “Kuroo, stop laughing, you bastard!” Oikawa hears him hiss. “This is all your fault!”

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that,” Kuroo says between chuckles, reaching over to pull him back into the hallway. “It’s not _that_ embarrassing. If you think ‘kiss the cook’ is cheesy, you should’ve seen the other ones.”

“The apron pattern is not the point!” Oikawa screeches, pointing accusingly at them. “You guys are too domestic! Cooking dinner for your boyfriend in a lame apron that he bought you, and when he brings friends home, you’re just like ‘oh, time to entertain my hubby’s guest, no big deal, I made extra anyway.’ You two are, like, the second least lovey-dovey couple I know! How could you guys betray me!” he wails, throwing himself against Daichi, who catches him with an “oof.”

“H-Hubby?” Daichi stammers, face red.

“Oh, right,” Kuroo says, like he’s only remembering now. “Oikawa’s here for an actual reason. He’s having an existential crisis.”

“Does it have to do with Iwaizumi?”

“Duh.”

“Thought so.”

Oikawa glares at them, trying not to sulk. “It’s a bit of a long and complicated story, Dai-chan, but—”

“So basically, he’s contract-dating Iwaizumi for the next six months ‘cause he caught Iwaizumi on Tinder and was like, ‘I ain’t letting some other hoe touch my man’.”

Daichi nods gravely. “Sounds like something Oikawa would do.”

“Uh huh.”

“WHY DO YOU HAVE TO HURT ME LIKE THIS???”

 

 

 

Dinner is rice, steamed veggies, and nikujaga: simple but delicious, as it always is when Daichi cooks. Oikawa offers to clean up both as thanks and apology for his ranting, but his two friends scoff at him (in a scarily similar way again—just how many of his friends does he have to be jealous of?) and tell him to sit his ass down at the couch. Kuroo collects the plates and ambles into the kitchen, while Daichi settles down beside him.

“I don’t know what you want us to tell you,” he says, straight to the point as always. “I don’t know Iwaizumi well at all, especially not as well as you, so I can’t give you any real advice.”

“I know, but...” Oikawa trails off. Honestly, he’s not sure why he came over in the first place. Maybe he was just looking for some comfort. Daichi seems to understand that, by the way he casually throws an arm around Oikawa’s shoulders and doesn’t say any more. The two of them get distracted by screams coming from the TV for a few minutes before Kuroo walks back in, wiping his hands off on his sweatpants.

“Say,” he says, plopping down right beside Daichi. “D’you wanna bone Iwaizumi?”

Oikawa chokes on his spit. “Well...yes...maybe...?” he says in a small voice, feeling his face heat up. “I don’t know.”

“Seriously?” Kuroo pins him with narrowed eyes. “When I was pining over Daichi, I had about a gazillion wet drea—” Daichi slams his palm over Kuroo’s mouth, the Smile of Death splitting his face.

“Shut up,” he growls, eyes murderous.

“I’m just saying,” Kuroo protests, muffled into Daichi’s hand. “Isn’t that the point of a romantic relationship? You want to have sex. You want to be number one. That kinda thing.”

Daichi’s eyebrows draw together. “I guess so...”

“That’s one concise way to put it,” Oikawa agrees.

“Yeah, so how can you not want to?”

“No, no,” Oikawa says, waving his hands. “Obviously I do, I mean have you _seen_ him? It’s just that I don’t know if I’d want to do it under these kinds of circumstances.”

Kuroo shrugs. “Fair enough.”

“What if you invite him to hang out with us?” Daichi suggests. “Maybe we’ll get a better grasp of the situation if we can see it for ourselves.”

Oikawa perks up, appreciation radiating from his every pore. “DAI-CHAN, WHAT A MARVELOUS IDEA! I KNEW THERE WAS A REASON I LIKED YOU BETTER THAN KURO-CHAN!”

“Hey!”

* * *

_Day 23._

And so that's how they end up here, four days later, at a nice izakaya with Iwaizumi and Kuroo—sans Daichi, because he unfortunately had a last-minute thing to attend to—just as they planned. It’s a quaint private room, one of those fancy ones with soft lamplight where guests take off their shoes and sit on tatami mats. With the paper doors closed, they can barely hear the din of chatter from other guests, the atmosphere subdued and discreet. It’s perfect.

Except the entirety of the national team somehow found out and also decided to tag along. Including their managers and every single member of the medical unit of Team Japan.

Yeah, Oikawa doesn’t know why (really, it was probably just Bokuto overhearing Kuroo making the reservations and mistaking it for a team thing), but that’s just how it is, so he’ll have to deal.

“So how did the two of you get to know each other?” asks Yamada, their second-string middle-blocker. Oikawa isn’t particularly close to him, but the guy’s nice enough, if a little blunt, and he’s always been strangely fascinated by Oikawa’s anecdotes of Iwaizumi. Oikawa suspects there’s a bit of drama going on there with the guy’s own childhood friend.

“We’ve known each other since we were kids,” Iwaizumi tells him. Oikawa isn’t paying as much attention as he should be, slightly tipsy and distracted by the rolled-up sleeves of Iwaizumi’s work shirt. He wonders what the most natural way to touch those forearms would be. “Our parents were close and lived near each other, so we just ended up together all the time.”

“And you still get along so well after all this time,” Bokuto coos, swaying a little. Kuroo smirks and elbows him in the ribs.

“Iwa-chan enjoys my presence too much,” Oikawa sighs, fluttering his eyelashes. “Though it’s not like I mind, since having a beast like him around makes me look all the more beautiful~”

“Shut the fuck up, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi snarks, whacking him with his seat cushion, and giddiness rushes through Oikawa’s veins. Maybe he should check himself into a mental hospital for liking the abuse that Iwaizumi inflicts upon him. Yamada bursts into laughter as he watches them, expression open in surprise.

“Damn, I like you already, Iwaizumi! You’re a cool guy. I heard you were an amazing wing spiker in high school, we should have a friendly match sometime.”

“Sounds good,” Iwaizumi smirks, returning Yamada’s fist bump. “Let’s beat Oikawa’s ass into the ground.”

“Iwa-chaaann,” Oikawa whines, leaning into his side. The heat that sears into his arm from Iwaizumi’s makes him dizzy. “Stop bullying me!”

Bokuto suddenly shoves his way into the trio, glowing in excitement. “Hey, hey, hey, Iwaizumi! Is it true that you were an arm wrestling champ back in the old days?” Kuroo straightens, eyes gleaming in a way that Oikawa knows won’t turn out well for him. He tries to shoot surreptitious glares at the other man, but is blatantly ignored.

“Ohoho, is that true? C’mon, Iwaizumi, show us those guns,” Kuroo teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Let’s have an arm-wrestling tournament!” Bokuto crows.

Iwaizumi snorts and tips back his sake. “You’re all a bunch of professional athletes, I’m sure you’ve seen your fair share of muscles.”

“What’s this?” Kuroo and Bokuto lean in close, one calculating, the other eager. “You _scared_ or somethin’?” Oikawa groans and lets himself melt into the table, already knowing what’s to come. Right on cue, Iwaizumi’s grin goes crooked, teeth glinting in the dim light.

“You’re on, assholes.”

The three of them arrange themselves into position, pushing aside cups and plates to make room on the table. A few conversations stop, the other team players glancing over before getting won over by their curiosity and gathering closer. To his absolute delight, Oikawa gets squished right into Iwaizumi’s left side, who doesn’t bother to nudge him away.

“Don’t get in my way, Shittykawa,” he warns.

“I won’t!” Oikawa chirps happily, picking himself off of the table. “I’ll be the judge! Kuro-chan, get ready to meet your destruction!”

“Like hell,” Kuroo leers, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

“Make it quick!” Bokuto shouts, bouncing in his seat, already stripped down to his muscle shirt. “It’s my turn next!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kuroo grips Iwaizumi’s hand and they glare at each other in challenge, teeth gritted in smirks. A passing waitress knocks twice, slides open the door presumably to ask if they need anything, then does a double take as she takes in the scene. Her cheeks visibly redden. Oikawa can relate.

“Everyone goooood?” he croons, putting a hand over Kuroo and Iwaizumi’s, making sure they’re centered. “Alrighty, first arm wrestling match tonight of the manly men, Kuro-chan versus Iwa-chan! May the best gorilla win~ Ready? Set! Go!”

 

 

 

“Okay,” Bokuto slurs half an hour later, collapsed over the table, his hair drooping. “Okay, I can see where the attraction is coming from.” His voice is too loud, but Iwaizumi’s in the washroom and Oikawa can’t really bring himself to care when the alcohol’s making him feel loose and agreeable. Kuroo, a true friend, smacks Bokuto upside the head and tells him to shut up.

“Bokuto, you’d better chug some water right this instant, because I’m not hauling your fat ass all the way back home like last time, you hear me?” Kuroo growls. “Hey, owl-head!” Oikawa giggles at their antics, feeling lighter than he has in years. Then Bokuto stands up and starts stripping, and Kuroo’s near-shouting at him, and Oikawa’s so busy cheering them both on that he doesn’t notice one of the team’s physical therapists sit down next to him.

“Oikawa-kun,” the black-haired girl calls. He turns to look at her, and can’t remember her name for a second. Tani...hara? Yeah, that sounds about right. It’s Tani-something, for sure. He doesn’t think they’ve ever really spoken, since Oikawa goes to their male therapist. She’s cute, with large, dark eyes and a small, heart-shaped face, her make-up light, mascara natural and not clumpy spider legs, unlike some of the girls Oikawa has dated.

“Hi, cutey-chan,” he says, gifting her one of his sparkling smiles since he’s in a generous mood. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Yes, quite,” she tells him in amusement, looking over at Kuroo and Bokuto, the latter of who is now passed out in his seat. Kuroo’s hair is even messier than usual and he looks kind of haggard, but Oikawa starts when he sees his intent gaze trained on them.

“That’s good,” he mumbles, reaching for his water.

She nods, pressing her lips together. “Mm-hmm. So, I realize that this is quite forward of me, but...”

Ah, so that’s what it is. Oikawa should’ve seen it coming, really. He pastes on his signature apologetic smile, bracing himself for a gentle rejection.

Tanihara twiddles her fingers, looking down at the table, a pretty flush rising to her cheeks. “I was just wondering, if. Um. If you knew whether Iwaizumi-san was single?”

In a split second, Oikawa is sober. Across the table, the awareness of Kuroo watching and listening to their interaction is like a laser burning into the side of his head. He realizes that his mouth dropped open without him noticing and quickly snaps it shut. His face feels as heavy as lead, but he arranges his expression into something a little more characteristic, calm but provocative.

“Oh? And why do you ask, cutey-chan?”

The way she bites her lip makes Oikawa’s stomach turn. “Just out of curiosity,” she replies haltingly.

He laughs. It comes out a little scathing. “Well, I’m not sure! Sorry, I can’t give you an answer.”

“Oh, that’s okay!” she exclaims, and fiddles with the hem of her sleeve. “Like I said, I was only curious.”

“Ha, yeah, no worries. I don’t blame you, Iwa-chan’s pretty handsome, isn’t he?” Oikawa says, then bites his tongue. Tanihara peeks up at him in surprise, before tipping her head in a bashful nod. Oikawa wants to smash his palm into her face and smear her makeup all over.

“Um...do you think he’d be bothered if I sent him a text about it?” she asks, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles in her tights, and Oikawa freezes.

“You...exchanged numbers?”

Tanihara nods again.

Oikawa slumps back into his seat, numb. The girl is still talking, rambling nervously about something or another, but Oikawa isn’t listening. He’s angry, but he doesn’t know who or what at. He wants to throw something, or maybe punch something, but there’s a weariness weighing him down, like his bones have become too heavy for him to move. For the millionth time, he feels like he let himself forget the ramifications of a temporary relationship and got caught up in his fantasies, all on his own.

He couldn’t even tell her Iwaizumi was with _him_.

“Oikawa,” a voice breaks into his thoughts. When he looks up, he finds Kuroo there, gripping his upper arm, worry in the lines of his face. “I think it’s time to get you home.”

“Home?” He frowns. “But what about Iwa-chan?” Kuroo clicks his tongue.

“I already texted him. He’ll be waiting for you by the entrance. C’mon, let’s go, get off your ass.” Oikawa stands obediently, letting himself be pulled along, and Kuroo sends an apologetic look towards Tanihara.

“Sorry, Taniguchi,” he says. “Doesn’t seem like it, but this guy’s pretty drunk, so I’m gonna have to make him go home.” Oikawa doesn’t hear what she says, but he follows when Kuroo starts leading him through the thinning crowd to the front of the bar.

“Go back and sleep,” Kuroo tells him. “And call me tomorrow or something.” Oikawa nods.

Iwaizumi’s leaning against the wall by the door when they arrive, and his face immediately darkens when he sees them. “Hey, idiot, did you drink too much? Oh, thanks, Kuroo.”

“No problem,” he says, handing over their coats. “Nice meeting you, Iwaizumi. See ya around.” He shoots one more meaningful look at Oikawa before melting back into the shadows. Oikawa tries to smile.

“Let’s go home, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi frowns as they push the doors open and make their way into the cool night air. “Did something happen while I was gone?”

“No, I’m just really tired.”

“Have you been overworking yourself? I thought we talked about this.”

“I haven’t.”

“You sure? ‘Cause you look like you just got run over by a truck.”

“Wow, Iwa-chan, you sure know how to flatter a guy,” Oikawa mutters. “And yes, for god’s sake, I’m sure. _Mother_.” A pause. “Wai—ouch, that hurt! Stop, stop, you’re gonna rip out my beautiful hair!” Iwaizumi sighs and lets go of the brown locks. Then he leans over to seize Oikawa’s arm, and wraps it around his shoulders.

“C’mon, you can lean on me.”

Oikawa feels his face twist into an involuntary scowl. “I can walk just fine, Iwa-chan.”

“You look like you’re about to pass out any second now.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do no—”

“Just shut up and walk!” Iwaizumi explodes. “It’ll only take a few minutes to get home, and then I’ll let you die on your bed.”

“Hmph,” Oikawa says, and stays quiet the rest of the way.

* * *

_Day 25._

Oikawa gnaws on the knuckle of his index finger, digging into the flesh with the sharp edge of his front tooth before running over the mark from left to right, left to right. His eyes are trained on the twelve tabs open in front of him, unaware that the room has gone from dusky blue to pitch-black. The muscles in his forearm are sore from curling his hand around the mouse for the last two hours, but a little pain like that is nothing.

He continues to skim the page, but his mind’s not really into it. He can’t stop thinking back to the phone conversation he had with Kuroo the day before.

_“How’re you feeling?”_

_Oikawa groans, flopping over to suffocate himself with his pillow._

_“Did Iwaizumi say anything?” Kuroo asks. ‘Has she texted him?’ goes unsaid, but Oikawa hears it loud and clear._

_“No.”_

_Kuroo sighs in acknowledgment._ _“Hold on, Sawamura wants to talk to you.”_

_There’s some shuffling across the line. “Oikawa?”_

_“Mm,” Oikawa grunts in acknowledgment. He listens to the breathing on the other side, and knows that Daichi is preparing himself to say something that he doesn’t really want to say. Oikawa waits._

_“I don’t think you should give up yet,” Daichi finally tells him, and Oikawa sits up, shocked. “I’m just saying that there’s no reason to. Not yet.”_

_“Dai-chan, it wasn’t the girl that bothered me,” Oikawa blurts out. “I mean, it was, but it was the realization that I couldn’t—I can’t—”_

_“I know. I understand that, Oikawa. Of course, I think you should do whatever makes you happy, and you know that we’ll support you no matter what you choose to do. I’m just letting you know what I think of this, objectively.”_

_“Dai-chan...”_

_“But,” Daichi cuts in, sharp. “Don’t get too invested.”_

_Oikawa breathes out through his nose and closes his eyes. “I know,” he says._

Oikawa doesn’t hear the front door open and close, nor the call of his name. Footsteps tread past his room, stop, then backtrack.

“Oikawa, are you stress-shopping again?” Iwaizumi demands from the doorway, making him jump in his seat and twist around. The other man flicks on the room light, glaring. “And stop biting your damn hand, for the last time.”

“Iwa-chan, welcome back!” he exclaims. “How was work?”

“Busy,” Iwaizumi grumbles, running a hand through his hair. “Frustrating.”

“Good thing I made agedashi tofu tonight then, huh,” Oikawa grins triumphantly. Iwaizumi’s eyes light up.

“You did?”

“Oikawa-san’s gut told him it was the best choice today,” he boasts with a hair flip. “Praise me.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Like you need any more praise.” He makes for his room again, tugging at the knot of his tie, and Oikawa waits for him to be gone before breathing a sigh of relief. Then Iwaizumi comes stomping back in, and Oikawa winces. “Trashykawa, did you think I’d let you change the subject that easily! I asked if you were stress-shopping, bastard!”

“No,” Oikawa drags out the syllable, shifting to try to cover his computer screen. Iwaizumi squints, marching forward. He jerks to the right, but Oikawa mirrors him, blocking his view.

“You’re obviously on eBay,” Iwaizumi snaps, whipping his tie at Oikawa, making the latter yelp.

“I’m just buying things I need, Iwa-chan!” he cries. “Being beautiful is hard work!”

“You already have two cardboard boxes filled with face masks sitting over there. Why don’t you use those instead of buying more, huh?”

“It’s different!” Oikawa jabs a finger at his screen. “These are high-tech charcoal masks for your pores that K-pop stars use! Those are just normal moisturizing masks! Do you want me to end up with gigantic potholes for pores, Iwa-chan, hmmm, do you? No one would love me anymore!” Iwaizumi groans, his face turning to the ceiling.

“Literally no one in the world cares about how big your pores are, Oikawa. And they look fine, okay, it’s not like you’ve changed that much over the years.”

Oikawa’s eyes grow big and his hands fly to his mouth. “Iwa-chan, do you really mean that?” He grabs the sleeve of Iwaizumi’s blazer, and the other man glares at him, letting his arm get shaken like a noodle.

“Forget about your fucking pores, why were you even stress-shopping in the first place?”

“Oh, no reason.” Oikawa releases him, grinning sunnily. “Just that practice has been a little tiring lately.” Iwaizumi eyes him suspiciously, but after a few seconds of scrutiny, just sighs.

“Fine, but make sure not to wear yourself out,” he warns, before shuffling out of the room. “And stop staring at your screen for hours on end, it’s bad for your eyesight.”

“Yeeess, mother.”

“Shut up. Now let’s eat already, my stomach is about to cave in on itself.”

“Okay~” Oikawa sings, putting his laptop on sleep mode and following Iwaizumi out. “I also made some miso soup. It’s Dai-chan’s recipe, with mackerel pike in it! I taste-tested it and it is amazing, as expected.”

“Fuck yes, miso soup,” Iwaizumi groans as he makes for his room, changes at light speed, and then meets Oikawa in the kitchen. “I’ve been craving that shit.”

“No need to thank me,” Oikawa says airily, handing Iwaizumi his bowl and chopsticks. “Just casually being the best friend in the world, that’s all.” Iwaizumi ignores him and begins stuffing his face, and Oikawa watches him fondly before digging in himself. “So, speaking of Dai-chan...”

“Mmf?”

“It’s too bad we couldn’t see him the other day. I have a feeling you guys would get along.”

Iwaizumi chews thoughtfully. “Yeah, I don’t know much about him other than from when we played against Karasuno.”

“Ugh, let’s not talk about that dark part of our past.” Iwaizumi smirks and picks up his miso soup bowl, tipping it back. “So, did you meet anyone else that night?” Oikawa asks as he slices a piece of tofu cleanly in half with his chopsticks and picks up a piece, blowing at it. Iwaizumi frowns.

“Well, yeah, like your entire team.”

“And what did you think of them?”

“They seem to be good guys, from what I could tell.” Iwaizumi shrugs. “Ah, that reminds me, I was supposed to text Bokuto about setting up a time to play a friendly match.”

“What!” Oikawa squawks. “Why wouldn’t he just text me!”

“It’s easier if he has my phone number so that he can contact me directly.”

“Not like I don’t see the both of you practically every day or anything,” Oikawa grumbles, stealing a piece of fish from Iwaizumi’s bowl in retaliation. “Did you get anyone else’s number that night?”

“Yeah. Pretty much everyone’s.”

Oikawa hums. “And has anyone texted you yet, or...?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer, and Oikawa looks up from his rice. The other man is staring at him, lips a flat line. “What?” Oikawa says defensively.

“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?” Iwaizumi raises a challenging brow. “Stop talking in circles, you know I hate that shit.”

Oikawa feels heat creeping up his neck. He debates telling Iwaizumi the truth. But really, whether or not the girl texts Iwaizumi and how Iwaizumi responds to her don’t matter—he knows that Iwaizumi wouldn’t do anything. And yet, he still wants to know, the curiosity, the fear, crawling up his throat.

The sound of the wall clock is loud in the room. In the end, Oikawa’s cowardice wins out.

“I was just worried you wouldn’t get along with them,” he murmurs. “A lot of them are important friends of mine, after all.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but his hunger must win out because he snorts and goes back to his food. “They were cool.”

“That’s good.”

“Uh huh.” Iwaizumi reaches over and piles a tiny mountain of marinated chicken in Oikawa’s bowl. “Eat up, you look tired as shit.” Oikawa’s heart squeezes.

“Say, Iwa-chan?”

“Mng.”

“You don’t have work tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna watch a movie or something? I think we still have the beers that Makki and Mattsun left behind last time.”

“Sure.”

 

 

 

The dishes are done in the blink of an eye with Iwaizumi washing and Oikawa drying, and then the latter’s hurrying into his room for his laptop, grabbing it to connect to the TV. He scrolls through Netflix, but nothing really catches his eye.

“What are you feeling, Iwa-chan?” he calls.

“Something that’s not aliens,” Iwaizumi grunts from the kitchen.

“Rude!” Oikawa cries. “Just because I like aliens doesn’t mean every single thing I watch has to be related to them.”

“Yeah, maybe only ninety-nine percent or so.”

Oikawa sniffs. “It’s okay, we all know that apes don’t understand refined cinema. Fine, I’m feeling cartoons today so let’s watch the Incredibles.”

“Wow, a rare good choice.”

“You take that back!”

“Prove me wrong, then.” Iwaizumi appears with a handful of snacks and a six-pack, cold from the fridge. He settles at his usual spot on the left side of the couch and waits for Oikawa to dim the lights and plop on the opposite end before cracking open two beers, handing one over. They clank cans with a ‘kanpai’ and down the first sips.

“Iwa-chan, did you know that the sequel’s coming out?”

“Seriously? When?”

“I think in just a few months, actually.”

“Finally. We’ve been waiting for, what, a decade?”

“Probably more than that.” Oikawa rips open a packet of potato snacks, stuffing a handful into his mouth. “Want one?” he crunches, offering the bag, and Iwaizumi shakes his head, his expression warring between repulsed and entertained.

“If only your fangirls could see you now,” he grieves.

“Iwa-chan’s just jealous that he doesn’t look as dashing as I do while eating chips.”

“You’re lucky I’m not gonna throw this cushion at you because I’m too lazy to clean up the crumbs.”

“Nyeh nyeh nyeh.”

 

 

 

As usual, Oikawa finds himself absorbed in the plot, glad to let loose and stop thinking for one second about Tani-fucking-hara or -guchi or whatever the hell texting Iwaizumi. Halfway through his second beer, he’s feeling lighter and content, happy to spend time with Iwaizumi and guffawing at scenes that probably aren’t even that funny. He’s not sure how much Iwaizumi has drunk, but the other man’s also relaxed beside him, laughs coming more easily. It’s a great night, and Oikawa feels himself slowly becoming one with the couch, truly at ease for the first time in a couple days.

And then Iwaizumi puts his hand over Oikawa’s.

At first, Oikawa doesn’t register the sensation, but as he slowly comes to realize through the haze in his mind that that’s Iwaizumi’s hand on his, he feels his eyes widening to comedic proportions. He dares not look down, swallowing hard over the sudden tightness in his throat. Iwaizumi squeezes his hand before carefully turning it over, tucking his fingers between Oikawa’s. Their palms press together. Iwaizumi’s thumb starts that sweeping motion again, drawing over Oikawa’s skin.

Goosebumps race up Oikawa’s arm until his entire body is thrumming, the room shrinking down until it’s just the two of them, the couch, the feeling of Iwaizumi’s hand. Oikawa’s heart is thumping so hard that it resonates in his ears, blocking out whatever Elastigirl is saying. His breaths are shallow, making him lightheaded.

They held hands once, that time after their movie-shopping outing, but never again. That was a whole eight days ago, not that he’s been counting. He hasn’t had the chance to build up immunity to the nervous, floaty ecstasy he gets from feeling Iwaizumi’s hand in his.

And it’s different this time. A week ago, they were outside enjoying the breeze, hands linked innocently the way two particularly close friends or a young, blushing couple might do. Now, the room is dark. They are alone in an enclosed space, boxed in by the walls. Apart from the TV, the outside world is quiet, engulfed by the all-encompassing darkness of night. There is no one, nothing between them and the potential for more.

If Oikawa uses his imagination, he can hear Iwaizumi’s quiet breaths, feel his warmth against his left thigh. He shivers.

“Oikawa.” Iwaizumi’s voice breaks through the fog in his head, low and warm. “Breathe.”

Oikawa doesn’t know what he’s talking about until the inhale he pulls in next is shaky, to his utter humiliation. He feels his face heat even further. He’s being such an embarrassment right now, overreacting at something as stupid as a bit of hand-holding. He wants to change his name and move across the world to some place where no one knows him, preferably a nice, warm country so that he’ll stop craving Iwaizumi’s body heat all the time.

Oikawa still doesn’t know why Iwaizumi is doing this. Uneasiness curls in his stomach, drawing him back to himself, and he steels his nerves, slowly turns so that he can properly look at Iwaizumi. Still, he doesn’t look his best friend in the eye, too afraid to do so. He focuses his gaze on a spot by Iwaizumi’s ear, and opens his mouth.

“Iwa-chan.”

It comes out raspy, quiet. Oikawa licks his lips, disheartened by his own incoherence. He takes in a quick breath, but before he can breathe out and finally say something—

there’s a pressure, a warmth, on his lips.

Iwaizumi is kissing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading!! if u have the time, a comment would really make my day, but if not, thanks for sticking around ♥


	5. Days 25-34

Iwaizumi figures it out the morning after he agrees to Oikawa's ridiculous proposition.

He’s cleaning up Oikawa’s laptop early in the morning, muttering under his breath about his best friend’s tendency to leave his things everywhere, when the thing jolts back to life from sleep mode. He pauses when he sees the PowerPoint presentation pop up again and snorts to himself as he scrolls through the slides. Only Oikawa would think of doing something so dumb.

He’s closed the window and is mousing over the file folder to close that too when the cursor skims over the file name. Iwaizumi frowns, hovering over it again and squinting.

He’s not sure what to think, that the creation date of the damn thing is from over a decade ago. He stares for a moment, perplexed.

But on second thought, there are many possibilities. Maybe Oikawa made it as a joke at first, and only recently remembered its existence. Or maybe it was the desperation from back then. Iwaizumi knows that that was a time when Oikawa was most fragile, most sensitive about his insecurities, and the dating idea could have been his way of keeping Iwaizumi by his side. The probability of either of these two options alone is high. So Iwaizumi shuts off the laptop, places it on the living room table, and goes about his daily routine. He forgets about it.

Until Oikawa kisses him on the cheek.

Iwaizumi may be dense—in fact, he might be an actual brick wall of density, if his suspicions of Oikawa’s decade-long crush are correct—but he’s not so stupid that he doesn’t know what a skittish gaze and red face and trembling hands mean, and that’s when it clicks: why Oikawa had a PowerPoint ready in the first place, why he couldn’t meet Iwaizumi’s eyes when he was asked certain questions, why this whole thing was brought up with that timing.

Iwaizumi somehow finds his way to work, dazed. He spends the whole day like that, doesn’t hear his colleagues calling for him until they raise their voices, blurts “you too” at the cafeteria lady when she tells him to enjoy his meal. To have overtime on a day when he’s so not in the zone is just his luck. He doesn’t have the time to think about his feelings or Oikawa’s too deeply, caught up in how busy work is and still reeling from the way the puzzle pieces have fallen together. Still, most of him isn’t sure he’s convinced, and so on the train going back home, he makes up his mind to have a serious talk.

Except the way Oikawa visibly shrinks away from him, fear plain on his face, makes the words die in Iwaizumi’s throat. So he swallows it down, takes it all in stride, and decides to let sleeping dogs lie.

Iwaizumi is bisexual. His preferences lean heavily towards women, but he’s found himself attracted to the odd man in his life, and he accepts that for what it is. Objectively, Oikawa is nice to look at, the way Brad Pitt or a blooming sakura tree might be, but there’s a difference between knowing something is attractive and actually being attracted to it, and thinking of Oikawa like that is. Weird. Almost creepy, as if he’s looking at his brother in a romantic way.

Not that Oikawa doesn’t qualify as a lover or anything, because Iwaizumi admires and respects and _likes_ him as a person. And not that he’s never thought about it before, but the thoughts have always been severed by that distinct feeling of guilt, or wrongness.

Day four, Iwaizumi doesn’t have to go in to work, and he spends his time finishing up some chores, going to the gym, thinking about Oikawa. It’s all very normal except for that last part, because as much as he cares for Oikawa’s well-being, he’s unaccustomed to the way the other man won’t _fucking get out of his goddamn mind_. For the first time since it’s all begun, he wonders what a future as Oikawa’s real, permanent boyfriend would be like. Rather than using the relationship as a cover to temporarily placate his parents or to relieve the vague loneliness that periodically pops up in him, he imagines being with Oikawa for the sake of being with him.

He relives the memory, over and over again, of the kiss on his cheek. The way Oikawa tries to make conversation to calm his nerves first, and then how his hand curls around Iwaizumi’s arm. How his eyes squeeze shut so hard his face wrinkles like a raisin. His lips are stiff and the touch is so light that Iwaizumi barely feels it, but it’s not the touch itself that gets him: it’s afterwards, when Oikawa pulls away, mouth quivering, a flush stretching all the way down his neck and under his shirt. His eyes dart up to Iwaizumi’s, then fall away. His hair is mussed up from sleep, pyjamas as hideous as ever—and Iwaizumi finds himself swallowed by curiosity.

It's a side of Oikawa he has never seen. He doesn't know this Oikawa. In the end, that’s what prompts him to give the relationship a chance, along with the simple fact that he likes to see Oikawa happy. He goes with his instinct, doesn’t bother overthinking about the future.

Day seven, he kisses Oikawa back on the cheek, partly as an experiment, partly to try to draw out that expression again. Besides, a cheek kiss isn’t too big of a deal. Iwaizumi thinks it’s only fair to put himself in the other’s shoes and do something to reciprocate after Oikawa mustered up his courage. He’s pleasantly surprised when the reaction he’s gifted is even better than anticipated.

Day seventeen, he voices a thought that’s been bugging him, asks if Oikawa has told Matsukawa and Hanamaki about their relationship. The denial unsettles him, because knowing his best friend, showing off should be the first thing he does, particularly by updating his relationship status on every single social media platform he owns. Iwaizumi backtracks and wonders if maybe he’s been reading the situation completely wrong, but Oikawa’s explosive, barefaced jealousy towards Yamamoto Mai dashes that notion. He reminds Oikawa that they are boyfriends now, wanting Oikawa to understand so that Iwaizumi can ascertain the full extent of his feelings. He doesn't want his best friend to feel like he has to hold anything back. And then he takes Oikawa’s hand in his because he’s curious what a man’s—and specifically, Oikawa’s—hand will feel like. That elated face is starting to grow on him.

Day twenty-five, he holds Oikawa's hand again. This time, the response is even more dramatic. Oikawa’s frozen, every muscle in his body tight in nervousness, the sound of his breathing abruptly puttering into silence. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but Iwaizumi wants to laugh out loud. Not to mock Oikawa, but there’s something else there that makes a thrill run up his spine. And before he can really think about what he’s doing—

he leans forward.

* * *

_Day 25._

Oikawa’s lips are soft against his, slightly parted from shock. His brown eyes have shot wide open, and Iwaizumi looks into them searchingly, his own eyes half-lidded. He keeps them trained on Oikawa’s like that as he presses closer, tilting his head for a better angle. The other man gasps quietly, eyelashes fluttering before finally lowering towards his cheeks, and then he kisses back hesitantly, lips pliant and plump. Iwaizumi’s gaze traces over his face, taking in every reaction. When he gently sucks on Oikawa’s bottom lip, Oikawa begins shaking all over, something that sounds like a whimper sighing out of his throat.

Adrenaline pumps through Iwaizumi’s veins. It makes him warm and intent, and he shifts closer, one hand closing around Oikawa’s jaw, the other around the back of his neck. He rubs the pads of his thumbs on the delicate skin under Oikawa’s ears and relishes in the husky exhale that rewards him. Oikawa’s hands come up to cover his, then drift down past his wrists to his forearms, clinging like Iwaizumi’s his anchor. The desperation on Oikawa’s face is an expression he’s all too familiar with. “Iwa—mm,” Oikawa murmurs.

Iwaizumi's eyes snap open, the sound of his name said in such a way like cold water to the face.

He withdraws from Oikawa completely, their mouths separating with a wet sound, and the latter sits rooted in his spot, arms still outstretched. His lips are shiny and red, brighter even than the flush of his face, breaths quick and audible.

“Iwa-chan?” he says in a small voice. His hands slowly drop.

Iwaizumi swallows. Quickly, frantically, he gathers and catalogues his thoughts, drawing on the logic inside him and beating away everything else that’s unnecessary. “You have a game tomorrow,” he says. It comes out hoarse, deeper than he was expecting. “You should get to bed.”

“Oh. Right.” Oikawa looks down at his lap. “Yeah, I should probably...go sleep.”

“I’ll make breakfast tomorrow,” Iwaizumi tells him. Oikawa peeks up at him.

“You will?”

“Yeah.”

“But it’s your day off. You can sleep in.”

Iwaizumi gets to his feet, and thinks about pulling Oikawa up too, but decides against it. “Don’t worry about it. Now go to bed already. Goodnight.”

Oikawa nods. “’Night, Iwa-chan,” he mumbles. Iwaizumi tears his gaze away from him and walks as hastily to his room as he can without looking like he’s making an escape. The door closes behind him with a click.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He presses his fingertips to his eyes, rubbing in circles. Then he does the same to his temples. It doesn’t make him feel any better, guilt clenching in his gut.

* * *

_Day 26._

In the light of day, Iwaizumi feels even worse. He rolls over with a groan to bury his face in his pillow, his entire body aching even though the alcohol helped him get to sleep eventually. As soon as he closes his eyes, he’s faced with the memory of Oikawa’s shock, hopefulness, desperation, dejection.

“Fuck,” he bites out, muffled into the pillow, and slams a fist into his mattress.

He knows that he went too far last night. The beers in his system were no excuse. In fact, in hindsight, maybe even the kisses on the cheek and handholding were scummy of him to do, even though he hadn’t been bearing ulterior motives at all. At first, he thought the skinship relatively harmless, but actually seeing the extent of Oikawa’s eagerness and yearning last night, he’s beginning to understand that he’s been ignorant. He never thought he'd be the object of that look of desperation on Oikawa's face.

How could he let himself kiss Oikawa when he wasn’t sure he could return his feelings? How could he do that to one of the most important people in his life? Iwaizumi prides himself on his self-declared role as his childhood friend’s pillar, the one person Oikawa can trust with his vulnerabilities, and Iwaizumi can put his hand over his heart and say with one-hundred-percent conviction that he has always acted in Oikawa’s best interests.

Until now. The one time he doesn’t use his fucking brain, he hurts him. Regret and shame churn in his stomach, make his eyes burn.

 

 

And yet, despite how sleazy it all makes him feel, he still can’t stop thinking about how cute Oikawa was last night.

He was so, so cute. So _goddamn_ endearing. Adorable in a way that Iwaizumi has never thought of him, so much so that he wants to wrap up the other man in a blanket and—just—fucking _smother_ him—

A loud crash and gasp of dismay from the kitchen make Iwaizumi jerk up. He’s up and half-running down the hallway before he realizes, only remembering that he doesn’t have a shirt on when Oikawa looks up at him from the floor, goes rigid, and quickly averts his gaze. Iwaizumi wants to crawl into a hole.

“What are you doing?” he rasps.

Oikawa laughs shrilly, scooping up a pan that he presumably dropped on the ground and popping back up to his feet. “Sorry for waking you, Iwa-chan! I know you said you’d make breakfast, but I woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep, so...”

Iwaizumi takes one look at Oikawa’s under-eyes and knows immediately that the other didn’t sleep at all. He feels like a piece of shit all over again.

“Well, I’m awake now so I can do it. You go...relax or something.”

“Nah, it’s fine!” Oikawa gestures at two plates on the counter that are loaded with sunny-side-up eggs and sausages. “I’m almost done, I just need to finish up the pancakes now. Oh, but I guess I’ll have to wash the pan first, don’t I! That’s annoying. It just slipped out of my hand, how silly of Oikawa-san, haha.”

Iwaizumi’s nails dig into his palms. “Be more careful.”

“Yes, yes.” Oikawa turns away, waving a hand at him. “Hurry and wash up, Iwa-chan! I’ll be done soon.” Iwaizumi nods stiffly even though Oikawa’s not looking at him and goes to splash some much-needed cold water on himself.

A few minutes later, he’s back in the kitchen and setting the table as Oikawa chatters on about his team. Everything would’ve felt normal if Oikawa’s shoulders weren’t so tight, his motions deliberately graceful.

“Are you coming to the practice game later, Iwa-chan?” the brunet asks later, carefully cutting his pancake. “It’s in our gym, so you can join us and play a little after we’re done. If you want.”

Truthfully, Iwaizumi needs some time to himself so he can figure out what to do from here on out, but the thought of seeing Oikawa dominate the court and feeling his own palm smash a volleyball into the ground is too tempting. “Sure,” he says. Oikawa lights up like he wasn’t expecting Iwaizumi to agree.

“Okay, I’ll text Kuro-chan then!” he cheers and jumps up to fetch his phone.

“Finish your meal first or you’re not gonna be properly digested for the game,” Iwaizumi calls after him.

“Iwa-chan, for the last time, are you my mom?”

“Shut up!”

 

 

 

It turns out that everyone forgot about the gym maintenance that was scheduled for after the practice game, so Iwaizumi isn’t able to cash in on the offer to play with them. But his disappointment is nullified by Oikawa and Bokuto, who pout so hard that Kuroo finally snaps and suggests they all go bowling instead. Iwaizumi isn’t sure how everyone’s still so full of energy after that killer game, but hey, he’s not gonna complain about getting to wreck some bowling pins.

The whole team ends up going and the tiny employee manning the alley’s reception looks terrified to be surrounded by a dozen looming athletes, but valiantly registers everyone and hands out the indoor shoes. Iwaizumi’s tying his on a bench when Oikawa jumps up from beside him.

“Dai-chan! You made it!”

“Hey,” Daichi says, letting himself get herded to the bench. He settles next to Kuroo, who grins and nudges him in greeting. “Iwaizumi, it’s been a while.” He holds out his hand, and Iwaizumi grips it tight.

“Long time, Sawamura. Though it sure doesn’t feel like it when I’m hearing stories about you every day from this shithead.”

“Rude, Iwa-chan!”

Daichi laughs. “Same here. My condolences for having this creature thrust upon you in your childhood. I bet it’s been rough.”

“You know it.”

Oikawa is left speechless, gawking, and Kuroo cackles at him. Daichi’s attention slips away and Iwaizumi is left watching Daichi watch his boyfriend, the ex-captain’s face stoic save for a tiny upward quirk of his lips and the warmth in his eyes. Iwaizumi looks away, feeling like he’s intruding on something.

“GUYS!” Bokuto hollers from halfway across the alley, some of the other National Team players waving them over. “IT’S TIME TO PICK TEEEAAAMS!” Kuroo throws an arm around Daichi’s shoulders and sneers at Oikawa.

“We call Iwaizumi.”

“What!” Oikawa squawks. “You can’t just call two people at once! That’s cheating! And Iwa-chan’s obviously on my team!”

“Actually.” Iwaizumi stands and slings an arm around Daichi’s shoulders too. “They called dibs, so.” Oikawa looks so betrayed and distraught that Iwaizumi considers taking it back and just joining his damn team, but the brunet straightens, crosses his arms, and stomps over towards Bokuto.

“Fine!” he yells over his shoulder, sticking out his tongue. “Watch us destroy your asses!”

 

 

 

He does not destroy their asses. Apparently, Daichi is some kind of bowling god (“He always bowled to relieve stress when those crows got to be too much,” Kuroo tells Iwaizumi conspiratorially), and the three of them watch Oikawa gradually wilt like a plant without sun at the growing point difference.

“I think I’ll sit out this round,” Daichi smiles sheepishly with a glance towards Oikawa, who’s sprawled across a table two lanes down.

Kuroo just laughs. “I’ll sub in, then.” Daichi nods and pats him on the shoulder.

“I’m gonna sit this one out too,” Iwaizumi says, thinking about buying some snacks and going over to Oikawa to bribe him with them or some shit. Who gets that depressed over losing in bowling, anyway. Yamada takes his place, so he and Daichi head towards the refreshment booth. The noise dies down behind them as they walk, gaudy stripes on their shoes glowing in the dimness without the flash of neon lights from the lanes surrounding them.

“What are you getting?” Daichi asks him.

“Probably just some pizza. I’m not that hungry yet. You?”

“I’m craving fries. Actually, maybe I’ll grab a couple hot dogs for Kuroo, while I’m at it. He’s always starving after the slightest bit of exercise.” The way he says it sounds like he’s proud, for some unfathomable reason, and it almost makes Iwaizumi embarrassed.

“I heard from Oikawa that you guys have been together for years now.”

“Yeah. Almost six.”

Iwaizumi whistles. “Holy shit.”

“It just happened,” Daichi chuckles. “Too late to dig myself outta this one.” Dense as he is, even Iwaizumi can tell he doesn’t mean a single word.

“How?” he asks, not entirely of his own volition. In the pause before Daichi answers, he regrets bringing it up, wondering if he was too forward. But the other man’s face just softens into a small, private smile.

“Ah...well. I came to Tokyo for university, and he happened to be going to the same one, so we gave each other the benefit of the doubt and rented out a condo together.”

Iwaizumi knows what living with people he doesn’t know well is like, wincing at the memory. “You were close before then?”

“No, I wouldn’t say so.” Daichi taps his chin. “Or, at least, we didn’t text or contact each other any other way very often. But there was just this feeling, like I knew living with him wouldn’t be horrible. And we also understood each other on a deeper level than just acquaintances, with both of us being captain and all.”

“You got together while you were roommates?”

“Yeah.” Daichi grins. “One of the best decisions of my life.”

Iwaizumi feels like he’s been socked in the gut by the look of pure happiness on the other’s face.

“What’s that like?” spills out of his mouth before he can reconsider. “How did you know?”

Daichi looks surprised for half a second, before his eyes squint in amusement. His steps slow to a stop, and Iwaizumi mirrors him. “That’s a question I’m being asked pretty often recently.” Iwaizumi has no time to ask what he means before Daichi says, “Honestly, it wasn’t anything complicated. I think it just overflowed, one day.”

“Overflowed?” Iwaizumi echoes. The word brings to mind ramen broth spilling over bowls, a sink tap left on for too long, flash floods and tsunamis. None of the images are particularly appealing, and he can’t see how the concept can be applied to something as abstract as a relationship.

“Yeah. It built, little by little. For example, small things he did that made me happy turned into me wanting to do the same for him. Or maybe, if I think about it now...god, this is mushy. I’ve never—shit.” Daichi stops, looking unbearably shy. Iwaizumi wants to tell him to go on, because he really wants to hear what else this normally unyielding man will say about this softest part of himself. Daichi must see some kind of reassurance in his expression, because he releases a resigned sigh. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but.” He leans closer, eyes sparkling and cheeks apple-red, and whispers, “he fell in love first. But I knew I was done for when I started thinking that I wanted him to always keep looking at me like that.”

Iwaizumi’s mouth goes dry. For some reason he can’t even begin to understand, he feels the backs of his eyes prickling. He watches Daichi draw back to himself, teeth digging into his bottom lip, mouth curving wryly. Iwaizumi knows enough of Sawamura Daichi’s personality, has seen him exactly for who he is on court, to know that what he just said was completely uncharacteristic. Illogical, overly emotional.

But he can also see that that type of passion, like volleyball, is something uncontrollable. It’s something he can’t hold back, bursting at its seams.

Iwaizumi wonders if he can be that for Oikawa.

“Sorry,” Daichi laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “That was probably too much information. Feel free to forget everything I just said. On second thought, please do, god.”

“No,” Iwaizumi murmurs. “It’s—good. Congratulations.”

Daichi beams, pearly-whites shining. “Thanks.”

Iwaizumi inclines his head and looks away. “So...fries, you said, right? And hot dogs.” Daichi nods. “Let’s go grab them, then. My treat.” He’s relieved when Daichi doesn’t argue, laughing instead in that booming way of his.

“You’re a cool guy, Iwaizumi.”

“Oddly enough, that’s also a phrase I’ve been hearing recently.”

“I guess you have to be, to deal with Oikawa long-term.”

“Glad you understand.”

They share a smirk.

* * *

_Day 34._

Iwaizumi thinks about it for one entire week. He’s never thought about anything for so long before, not even his decision to go to a university that Oikawa didn’t apply to.

When Oikawa’s blathering beside him as they do the dishes together, he wonders what it would be like to kiss him and have it be accepted as something completely natural thing to do. When Oikawa yawns a goodnight at him in his stupid pyjamas, Iwaizumi wonders what it would be like to curl up behind him in bed. He wonders what it would be like to have sex with Oikawa. What’s the difference between a friendship as close as theirs and a romantic relationship, anyway? Is it just the sex? Shouldn’t there be something more? Iwaizumi feels like he’s missing a key piece of the puzzle: the answer is right there, but it keeps slipping out of his fingers. He had a few girlfriends back in university, and he’d thought he loved them then, but now he’s not so sure. They were cute and easy to talk to, fun to hang out with, and integrated seamlessly into his life. But when they eventually went their separate ways, Iwaizumi didn’t feel the heartbreak that's always so dramatically portrayed in ballads.

“Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi jolts, his knee banging against the underside of the living room table. “Ow, fuck.”

Oikawa’s expression is some cross between merriment and concern as he looks down at Iwaizumi from the sofa, remote control hanging from his hand. “Are you doing okay? You’ve been glaring at that spreadsheet for the past, like, hour.”

“’m fine,” Iwaizumi sighs, rubbing his sore knee. “I was just working something out.”

“Whatever you say.” Oikawa shrugs and unpauses his Korean drama, humming as the soundtrack picks up again in the background. Iwaizumi tries not to be too obvious about peeking over at him.

Oikawa hasn’t brought up the kiss, but he’s also been avoiding any kind of non-platonic contact, which Iwaizumi feels both remorseful and glad about. As much as he is tempted to do something sometimes, that wouldn’t be fair, and he knows he’d only be left feeling sick and dirty afterwards. It’s weird not being able to read what Oikawa is thinking, but he’s afraid that asking will shatter the precarious balance between them.

Fed up with the endless thinking, Iwaizumi reaches for his phone.

 _hanamaki_ , he types, then stops. He already knows he’s gonna regret this. But he throws his pride away, grits his teeth, and wills his thumbs to move. _what is love._

Hanamaki replies in under five seconds.

_Hanamaki: baby don’t hurt me??_

_Hanamaki: ??????_

_Hanamaki: no more????_

_Hanamaki: ??????????????????_

_Hanamaki: i actually dunno the next line_

_You: do i look like matsukawa to you_

_You: answer the fuckin question, dick_

_Hanamaki: OMG U WERE SRS_

_Hanamaki: HAHAHHA_

_Hanamaki: HAHAHAHAHAHA_

_You: yeah, alright. laugh all you want_

_Hanamaki: HAAHHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHHAHAH_

_You: ..._

_Hanamaki: ok im done my bad whats up iwaizumi tell mama hana_

_Hanamaki: did ur pure maiden heart receive some kinda...stimulus_

_You: i swear to god i will hop on the train right now and go beat your ass_

_Hanamaki: mattsun will protect me_

_Hanamaki: i have no doubt u could beat both of us togehter but im just sayin itll take some effort on ur part_

_You: HANAMAKI_

_Hanamaki: HAHAHAHAHA_

_Hanamaki: ok im done for real now wats goin on_

_You: fuck you_

_Hanamaki: mattsun wouldnt like that :((((((((_

_Hanamaki: srsly doe talk to me_

_You: fuckin hell_

_You: fuck_

_You: this is stupid_

_Hanamaki: ??_

_You: so you know that anime you’re obsessed with_

_Hanamaki: boku no hero academia?_

_You: yeah that one_

_Hanamaki: wat abt it?_

_You: what would you think if green freckles suddenly confessed to the exploding guy_

_Hanamaki: UHHHHHH_

_Hanamaki: EXCUSE ME???????_

_Hanamaki: NO?????????_

_Hanamaki: U KNOW BAKUGOU TOTALLY BELONGS WITH KIRISHIMA???????????_

_You: what? that’s not my fucking point_

_Hanamaki: wat r u tryin to say_

_Hanamaki: r u trashtalkin my otp cuz if so i will literally fight u_

_You: no, you asshole. i’m saying to just imagine it. green freckles and mcsplodey have known each other for so long, wouldn’t that be weird? if they got together?_

_Hanamaki: ??????????????? uhhh hell yeah cuz they highkey dont see each other that way_

_Hanamaki: like at all_

_Hanamaki: u want my full analysis or somethin cuz i could write a master’s thesis on this_

_Hanamaki: the childhood friends trope thing is kinda cute but its like way too farfetched_

_You: theres such a thing as a childhood friends trope??_

_Hanamaki: uh no shit its like the disney princess gets with prince kinda thing yknow like perfect fairytale ending or watever_

_Hanamaki: 2 ppl who know each other so well and who have been by each others sides since forever blah blah_

_You: why’s it farfetched then?_

_Hanamaki: bruh u havent watched a single ep or read a chapter u only know them from my rants id haev to get u to watch it all to understand_

_You: summarize it then_

_Hanamaki: HOW_

_Hanamaki: DO YOU WANT ME TO SUMMARIZE_

_Hanamaki: THE PASSION AND COMPASSION THAT IS BNHA_

_Hanamaki: AND THE LOVE B/W KIRIBAKU_

_Hanamaki: IN A TEXT MSG??????????_

_You: fucker, just give it a go_

_Hanamaki: uuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhh lets just say_

_Hanamaki: bakugou and midoriya respect and like care about each other and crap but not to the extent that they could ever give up their rivalry bc that rivalry is what shapes such a large part of their personalities????_

_Hanamaki: respect is diff from liking??? or somethin like that_

_You: oh, what the fuck, thats not a good example then_

_Hanamaki: an example of what_

_Hanamaki: iwaizumi srsly wat is it_

_Hanamaki: wait a minute_

_Hanamaki: did something happen with oikawa_

_Hanamaki: childhood friends??_

_Hanamaki: iwaizumi??_

_You: no_

_Hanamaki: ?????? wtf??_

_You: never mind, i’ll tell you about it another time_

_Hanamaki: ??????????????_

_Hanamaki: y u gotta leave a bro hangin like this_

_Hanamaki: u cant just say that and half insult my otp and then ignore me_

_Hanamaki: listen just tell me this. did oikawa say somethin to u_

_You: yeah_

_Hanamaki: and ur struggling with ti_

_You: kind of_

_Hanamaki: okokok_

_Hanamaki: u want advice_

_You: yeah_

_Hanamaki: theres only so much i can tell u without knowig the sitch but my best piece of advice is dont think too hard_

_You: what the fuck_

_Hanamaki: iwaizumi ur not the type to be good at thinking deeply leave that shit to the grand king_

_You: you’d better not be calling me stupid_

_Hanamaki: no for gods sake im tellin u to go with ur gut instinct. isnt that wat ur good at_

_Hanamaki: ur like the closest thing to a beast_

_Hanamaki: the nicest most humane beast but still_

_Hanamaki: stop worrying about what oikawa feels and concentrate on wat u want for a sec_

_Hanamaki: u know that oikawa is strong enough to handle watever u can dish out_

_You: he’s the strongest person i know_

_Hanamaki: exactly_

_You: thgat doesn’t mean i want to hurt him_

_Hanamaki: ull hurt him more by choosing a path u dont actually want bc u think he cant handle a risk or 2_

Iwaizumi stares at his phone screen, thumbs frozen over the keyboard.

Hanamaki is right. Oikawa jumped into this, fully understanding his own feelings. He’s probably considered the hundreds of possible endings to this contract relationship, and still, he decided to put everything at stake. The only thing he hasn’t done is confess, but the way this has been playing out, it’s not like he’s been trying that hard to pretend his feelings don’t exist. By not saying anything outright, he’s left the door open for Iwaizumi: Iwaizumi can back out at any second. But what Oikawa really wants, probably, is for Iwaizumi to give him a chance.

Wouldn’t it be cowardly of him to deny Oikawa even that?

A sudden, sharp inhale fractures his concentration, and he looks over to find the brunet hugging a cushion to his chest, leaning over the edge of the couch. Iwaizumi turns to the TV to see the female and male protagonists’ faces inching closer.

He puts down his phone. “Oikawa.”

“Shh, Iwa-chan, this is the good part,” Oikawa hisses. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes but waits, watching the two on-screen finally kiss after what feels like a lifetime of gazing at each other. It looks like a pretty sad kiss, too, their lips touching but with zero movement, the camera circling them. It’s so stupid that Iwaizumi wants to laugh, but he knows Oikawa would be pissed if he did.

At length, Soo Yeon and Woo Bin or whatever separate, and Oikawa relaxes back into the couch along with them, glowing in satisfaction like he’s the one who just got smooched. Mirth wells up in Iwaizumi’s chest.

He’s tired of uselessly going around in circles with no solution in sight. Iwaizumi’s always been more of a doer than a thinker.

“Hey, idiot.”

“Hmm?” the other murmurs, still not paying attention to him.

“Wanna kiss?”

Oikawa’s eyes shoot wide-open from their half-lidded state in a split second, his arms tightening all the way around the cushion. He goggles at Iwaizumi for a moment, like he’s searching for something. Iwaizumi doesn’t know if he finds it or not, but before he can react, Oikawa squeaks, “Yes.”

Iwaizumi closes in quickly, fueled by Hanamaki’s encouragement and reasoning and his own faint feeling of _I kinda wanna kiss him, dammit_. Their lips touch, gentle, then part to come together more fully. Oikawa’s eyes fall shut, his face going all wrinkly again. Just like last time, Iwaizumi wants to laugh, but the heat and softness of Oikawa’s mouth distract him, and he lets his own vision shutter to black.

They kiss three, four times, before Iwaizumi breathes, “open your mouth,” against Oikawa’s lips. The brunet shivers, full body, and Iwaizumi reaches for his neck to curl his palms around its sides, wanting to feel those shivers, wanting to revel in whatever elicits that kind of a reaction. Oikawa’s jaw falls open obediently and Iwaizumi licks into his mouth. The sound that whimpers from Oikawa’s throat makes goosebumps race up his arms. Their tongues graze against each other, and then Iwaizumi curls his around Oikawa’s, swallowing the other’s moan. It’s wet and soft and delicious.

He slowly draws away to suck in a breath, eyes blinking open, and then the realization hits him that he should at least try to explain. “Oikaw—”

“Shh.” Oikawa’s peering at him pleadingly, cushion caught between their bodies, his arms having coiled around Iwaizumi’s shoulders without him noticing. “No talking. I don’t wanna talk.” And then lips are over his again, and Iwaizumi succumbs to the sensation, pulling him closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♥


	6. Days 41-56

_Day 41._

Iwaizumi’s been making a habit of kissing him.

Once, Oikawa was folding the laundry on the couch and updating Iwaizumi on the latest developments between Soo Yeon and Woo Bin as Iwaizumi cleaned up the dining table after dinner.

“—and then his mom found her hiding in the closet and completely _lost her shit_ ,” he cackled, folding over the collar of one of Iwaizumi’s work shirts. “It was hilarious, oh my god, though I totally don’t blame the mom because if I found my son’s girlfriend hiding in the closet, I’d be like what the hell too, but that’s not the best part, the best part is when afterwards Woo Bin came in and saw them and was li—Iwa-chan, are you listening to me!”

“No,” Iwaizumi said, voice much closer than Oikawa was expecting. Oikawa flinched and looked up to find him standing to the side of the couch, dirty plates and bowls stacked in one arm, unoccupied hand reaching for Oikawa. Fingers gripped his chin, then Iwaizumi was leaning down and kissing him. His breath caught in his throat, eyelids fluttering, the shirt drifting from his hands to land on the ground. Oikawa’s mouth automatically opened for him, and Iwaizumi sucked on the fat of his lower lip languidly, the teasing hint of his cologne making Oikawa’s mind go fuzzy. He barely got a chance to kiss back before Iwaizumi pulled away with a final nip, leaving his mouth tingling and his heart pounding a staccato beat against his rib cage.

“Uh,” he squeaked. Iwaizumi smiled, a barely perceptible arc of his lips.

“You dropped the shirt,” he pointed out, and then ambled into the kitchen with the dishes.

Another time, Oikawa was sitting at his desk in his room, studying a recording of a match on his laptop. Iwaizumi walked in with a plate of fruit and glass of water, and set them beside him.

“Thanks,” he said distractedly.

“Remember to take breaks,” Iwaizumi reminded him.

“Mm-hm.”

Next thing he knew, his vision was unfocused as his glasses were being pulled off his nose, and Iwaizumi was planting a soft, wet kiss on his mouth. All higher function in Oikawa’s brain halted, his eyes almost popping out of his head. But it was a quick kiss, and Iwaizumi was gone before he could do anything at all except stare unseeingly at his computer screen. He slid bonelessly down his chair.

And yet another time, Oikawa was in a foul mood because they’d lost an important game. No kind of encouragement succeeded in mollifying his temper until Iwaizumi sighed, dragged Oikawa into their apartment at the end of the long day, and unceremoniously pecked him on the lips. Suddenly, the loss didn’t seem like such a big deal anymore when Oikawa knew the rest of the evening would involve a nice alien movie and, just maybe, a few more sneaked kisses with his favourite person.

Oikawa doesn’t know what sort of conclusion Iwaizumi came to during his week-long introspection, but frankly, at this point, he doesn’t give a rat’s ass. Not with the way every kiss makes his stomach fall to his feet and his heart practically throb out of his chest and his bladder feel a little weak. The human body is a truly wondrous thing.

“Do you have everything?” Iwaizumi asks him now, arms folded across his chest. “Wallet, ID, phone, keys, itinerary, gear?”

“Yeeeees, I checked everything three times before leaving the house,” Oikawa deadpans, shifting his bag higher on his shoulder. “Stop being a worrywart, Iwa-chan.”

“Doesn’t hurt to make sure. You didn’t leave anything in the car?”

“Nooo, geez.” Oikawa lets his eyes trace over Iwaizumi’s furrowed brow and default, neutral scowl, his chest brimming with not a small amount of fondness. “Thanks for giving me a ride.”

Iwaizumi shrugs. “I had the day off, so why not.”

“Yeah.” Oikawa exhales, hands twitching with the effort to keep himself from reaching out. Iwaizumi has seen him off so many times before, yet something about today makes it hard for Oikawa to say goodbye. But newly developed kissing habit or not, he knows Iwaizumi abhors PDA with a passion, and the airport is very much filled with people, so he opts to keep his fists clenched tightly around his things. “I’ll see you in two weeks, then?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll...text when I land.”

Iwaizumi grunts.

“Okay. Well, bye, Iwa-chan. Don’t miss me too much!” Oikawa manages a genuine smile before turning away.

Iwaizumi grabs his wrist. Oikawa’s startled even though he feels like this is becoming something of a pattern, and lets himself get towed to a corner with fewer people.

Without warning, Iwaizumi slips both hands into Oikawa’s hair and tugs to slot their lips together. Oikawa immediately drops all of his luggage and winds his arms around Iwaizumi’s broad back, kissing back desperately. Iwaizumi’s grown since high school so that their heights are equally matched, and it’s perfect, everything is perfect, the tenseness of his muscles under his worn hoodie, the way one hand slides from Oikawa’s hair to the small of his back, drawing him closer. Iwaizumi smells so good, that scent of his cologne lingering even though he doesn’t put any on if he doesn’t have work. His tongue coaxes out small noises that Oikawa can’t control as he struggles for breath.

They reluctantly break apart when the announcement for Oikawa’s flight sounds over the intercom. Iwaizumi’s breathing is quick to return to normal, but Oikawa’s treacherous knees stay wobbly. He knows they’ll give out now if he tries to move, so he continues to cling on to Iwaizumi’s arms, the other man gripping his elbows in support.

 _I’ll miss you_ , Oikawa wants to say, but what comes out instead is, “Be good while I’m gone, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi pinches his tricep. “That’s my line, idiot.” Oikawa laughs, and the other man's eyes soften. “Kick ass tomorrow,” he says gruffly, before eventually letting go. Oikawa unwillingly pulls away, steps back to heave his bag over his shoulder and grab the handle of his suitcase.

“I’m gonna go, then.” Iwaizumi makes a shooing motion that just makes Oikawa grin. “Bye, Iwa-chan,” he waves, and finally leaves.

The lady at the gate checks his pass and directs him towards his terminal. Oikawa thanks her, then twists around to see if he can catch one last glimpse of Iwaizumi. His best friend’s still standing where Oikawa left him, and he raises a hand when their eyes meet over the sea of people, lips quirked up in a smirk. Oikawa waves back frantically one last time before passing through the gate.

 

 

 

 _Please fasten your seatbelts_ , the stewardess announces over the PA system, then repeats the request in English. Oikawa makes sure his buckle is secure before quickly pulling out his phone. He has at least a few minutes before he has to put it away, so he checks his LINE messages.

_Makki: safe flight bruh gl on the tournament_

_Mattsun: have a nice flight o grand king ;)_

_Dai-chan: Good luck! Kick Kuroo’s ass for me if he does anything stupid. :-)_

There isn’t anything from Iwaizumi, but Oikawa isn’t surprised.

“You sexting your precious Iwa-chan or something?” Kuroo leers, peeking over his shoulder.

“On the plane!” Bokuto gasps from his other side. “Oikawa, you’re kinkier than you look!”

“Shut up!” Oikawa whines, elbowing them away. “Don’t you guys have your own boyfriends to bother!”

Kuroo clicks his tongue. “I’m pretty sure Sawamura would castrate me if I tried to send him a dick pic from a plane, so yeah, no.”

“Wait, are you saying that a dick pic from anywhere else, like, say, a boat, would be cool?” Bokuto demands.

“Huh, a boat dick pic. I mean, I’ve never tried, but I guess it’s worth a shot.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t wanna see your gross dick,” Oikawa mutters vengefully.

“Uh, ‘scuse you, Sawamura fuckin’ _adores_ my di—”

“Can I get you gentlemen anything to drink?”

The smile on the stewardess’s face is a million watts, but Oikawa can see the way her cheek is subtly twitching. He clamps down on his laughter as Kuroo turns to face her, his own smile of matching brilliance even though the rest of his body is so stiff Oikawa’s surprised he doesn’t creak.

“Just some water, if you please,” he purrs, smooth as silk.

“Same for me!” Bokuto crows, and Oikawa snickers his agreement. The girl fills up three cups for them and hurriedly moves on to the row ahead. Kuroo lets out a long, pouty breath that ruffles his bangs.

“I am so glad Sawamura isn’t here right now because he definitely would have castrated me for that.”

“Good riddance.”

“Shut up, Shittykawa.”

“HEY! ONLY IWA-CHAN CAN CALL ME THAT!”

 

 

 

Hours later, Oikawa topples on to his bed with a loud groan, limbs flopping everywhere. He wrinkles his nose at the feeling of the rough hotel sheets rubbing into his face, but with a two-hour flight followed by a three-hour practice, he can’t bring himself to care too much about sad hotel thread count. His phone has fallen out of his pocket on to the mattress somewhere, so he pats around for it to check his notifications.

He has a single text that just says a characteristic _good_ in reply to Oikawa’s _landed safely!_ He snorts and thumbs through his gallery for the photo he took with the team before practice. After captioning and sending it to Iwaizumi, Oikawa groans again and buries his face into the pillow, too tired to bother changing.

He’s jolted awake from an accidental nap when his phone begins vibrating beside his head. Disoriented, he grabs for it and is surprised to see that it’s a phone call.

“Iwa-chan?” he slurs.

_“Hey. Sorry, were you sleeping?”_

“Mm, not really, just kinda napping. What’s up?”

Iwaizumi never calls when Oikawa’s away because he’s the type of person to be too lazy to contact anyone unless there’s an actual reason. Maybe Oikawa forgot something before he left. Did he remember to do the dishes? Was it even his turn?

 _“Nothing,”_ Iwaizumi says, and now Oikawa is completely awake.

“Nothing?” he repeats.

_“Yeah, I just felt like it.”_

Oikawa blinks, pulls his phone away from his ear to stare down at the screen, but it doesn’t offer him any answers. He presses it back to his ear. “Okaayy...?”

Iwaizumi huffs out a small laugh through his nose. _“So what are you doing?”_

“Uhh, not much. I just got back from practice and now I’m lying in bed.”

_“Have you eaten?”_

“Yeah, with the rest of the team. Oh! We had ramen at Daishin, you know, the original one in Sapporo. It was _soooooo_ good, oh my god, the noodles, the broth, the meat, _everything_. We should totally go together some time, the locals told us that all the dishes there are, like, traditional and stuff.”

_“Ah, I’ve heard of that place. Which reminds me, I might have a business trip to Hokkaido coming up in a few months.”_

“What!” Oikawa cries. “You’d rather go to Daishin with your co-workers than with me!”

He can almost hear Iwaizumi rolling his eyes. _“I didn’t say that, idiot. I just meant, if I’m in the area and my colleagues want to try it, I’m not gonna say no.”_

Oikawa’s bottom lip sticks out. He scratches the nail of his index finger over the sheets, picking at them.

_“Stop pouting. Besides, we’re still discussing who to send, so it might not be me.”_

“Hmph.”

_“Shut up. You’re the one eating good dandan noodles without me. Bastard.”_

Oikawa cracks a grin at that. He rolls over on to his back and kicks his legs in the air, still slightly sore but fatigue blown away with Iwaizumi’s voice in his ear. “So what about you, Iwa-chan, what did you do all day? I bet you were super bored and lonely and lost in life without me, weren’t you! No need to deny it, Oikawa-san knows all of your secrets.”

_“Ha, you wish. I actually got shit done without you around.”_

“Ewwww, boring! On a day off you should be outside enjoying the sunshine, walking your dog, maybe playing some beach volleyball! Iwa-chan’s such an old man.”

_“It was raining today. We don’t have a dog. And it’s April, there ain’t no one playing volleyball on the beach.”_

Oikawa waves his free arm around. “Psshh, I reject your old-man semantics. It’s the idea of a day off, okay, you have to use your imagination, silly!”

_“Yeah, well, my imagination got my work done.”_

Oikawa groans, long and deep. “This is why Iwa-chan needs me in his life. I am the excitement of your boring day. The joy in your monotonous existence. The colour in your black and white film. The cherry on top of your milkshake, the chocolate chips in your mint ice cream, the ketchup and mustard and relish on your hot dogs. The—”

_“Holy shi—shut your trap for one damn second."_

"Don't be bitter, it's bad for your health."

_"You're bad for my health. And why’s it all food, anyway?”_

“Because food is life, Iwa-chan. Food is life.”

_“What about volleyball?”_

“...”

_“...”_

“...Volleyball is also life.”

_“That’s what I thought.”_

“No matter. I believe I have made my point.”

_“Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you over all the bullshit spewing out of your mouth.”_

“Hey!”

_“Oh, my bad. The bullshit was your mouth.”_

“HEY!!!!!!!!!”

Iwaizumi laughs, deep and husky and beautiful and Oikawa loves him so much. _“Alright, time for you to go to bed, stupid. Goodnight.”_

“Awwwww, you’re hanging up on me?” Oikawa uses his most annoying whine, but knows it probably won’t faze Iwaizumi. The other man has mellowed somewhat with age, and sometimes Oikawa kind of misses his explosive high school temper. That intensity of his has never wavered, though, and in exchange for explosiveness, the steady undercurrent of warmth and softness in everything he does has become more pronounced.

On second thought, maybe Oikawa doesn’t miss his temper that much, after all.

 _“Yeah,”_ Iwaizumi says. _“Now, sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”_

“You’ll call again?” Oikawa asks hopefully.

_“If I’m free.”_

“Okay. G’night, Iwa-chan! Sleep tight!”

_“Night.”_

* * *

_Day 44._

_“So I interviewed Nishida Souichi today.”_

“Oooh, that hotshot batter?”

_“Yeah. Fuck, he was such a jackass.”_

“Seriously? I’ve heard so many rumours about him but I never knew what to believe.”

_“Now you know. He’s a jackass.”_

Oikawa laughs as he plops down into the armchair, scrubbing a towel over his hair. “What’d he do to piss off our precious Iwa-chan, hmm?”

_“Wouldn’t answer our goddamn questions even though we gave him the list days ago so he could prepare, and his agent okay’d them, obviously, so it wasn't like they were touchy or anything. Yamamoto-san asked him what it was like to be top batter three years in a row and he sneered and said, ‘Sorry, could you repeat that? Got kinda distracted there.’ Yeah, ‘cause you were too busy staring at her chest, piece of shit.”_

“Ew, what the hell. What’s his problem? How does his team not hate him?”

_“No idea. Far as I know, the rest of them are decent human beings.”_

“That sucks.”

_“Yeah. And then I was forced to ask a question about his scandal because the higher-ups wanted it, and he pretended not to hear. Like I give a flying fuck about his sex life, I’m just doing my job.”_

“What?! He straight-up ignored you?”

 _“Ha, yeah. Doesn’t matter though, I just kept asking until he gave an actual answer. Joke’s on him ‘cause we’re gonna be using that segment for the preview.”_ Oikawa bursts into laughter at the vindictive smugness in Iwaizumi’s voice.

“He riled up the unflappable Iwaizumi Hajime of NHK, someone give that man a trophy.”

 _“I’ll shove a fuckin’ trophy up his ass. And he’ll like it,”_ Iwaizumi snarls. Oikawa is ashamed that that makes arousal twinge in his gut. Iwaizumi sighs, long and deep, and Oikawa hears his bed creak in the background. _“So. What’d you get up to today, troublemaker?”_

“Hey, I’m not the troublemaker! Ushiwaka-chan is!”

_“Ah, that’s right, you played Team US today, didn’t you.”_

“Yeah, and you won’t believe what happened!”

_“Let me guess. Ushiwaka told you that you should’ve joined Team US.”_

“YES!!!!!!!! THAT IS!! EXACTLY!! WHAT HE SAID!!!!”

_“What a load of bull."_

“YEAH, EVERYONE KNOWS JAPAN IS STRONGER THAN THE US AT VOLLEYBALL!"

_"Makes you wonder why he moved there."_

"I DON’T KNOW AND I DON’T CARE. I HOPE HE NEVER COMES BACK.”

Iwaizumi chuckles. _“Salty as ever, huh.”_

“SHUT UP, IWA-CHAN! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY SIDE!”

_“Yeah, yeah, calm down before you get an aneurysm.”_

* * *

_Day 46._

"Iwa-chan?"

_"What?"_

"Did you read your horoscope today?"

_"Why the hell would I."_

"Well, for your information, the next few days are going to be crucial for your career. And you're not supposed to let doubt from others stop you. And you're especially compatible with Cancer, for the whole week, in fact."

_"You added that last part, didn't you."_

"Did not! Check the newspaper!"

_"I'm not falling for that."_

"Dammit."

Silence.

"Iwa-chan."

_"What, now."_

"I'm sleepy."

_"Hang up, then."_

"No. If I hang up first, that means I lose."

_"The fuck."_

"So if you don't want to lose, you're not allowed to hang up either. Ha."

The line goes dead. Oikawa stares down at the home screen of his phone in disbelief, but before he can spam-text Iwaizumi, his phone is ringing again, and he immediately picks up.

 _"I win,"_ Iwaizumi declares. Millions of questions and objections and mean names bounce around in Oikawa's head, but his pathetic mouth just stammers out a whine. _"Also, your horoscope predictions are bullshit because I'm compatible with Cancer year-round."_

Oikawa tears up a little.

* * *

_Day 48._

“Hey, man, wanna go out for drinks?” Kuroo asks as he grabs the back of his jersey and tugs it off his head in a practiced motion. “Bokuto already has his eye on this bar we passed by in the bus.”

“Ah, sorry, I’m feeling kinda tired tonight,” Oikawa says sheepishly, hiding behind his shirt. He’s careful not to meet the other’s eyes, because he sure as heck doesn’t need more teasing in his life.

But his efforts are all for naught, with a friend like Kuroo. “Ohohohoho, what’s this?” he jeers, and Oikawa knows he’s screwed. “You've been retiring to your hotel room awfully early this whole trip, haven't ya, Oikawa-kun? Skype dates with bae or somethin’?”

“A DATE?!” Bokuto screeches from all the way across the changing room. “IS IT WITH HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED?”

“Oikawa has a boyfriend?” Yamada chimes in, sounding insultingly shocked. “Why haven’t we heard about this?”

“No!” Oikawa squawks. “It’s not a date, I don’t have a date, that was just Kuro-chan and Boku-chan being blockheads!”

“Oh, good to hear. Almost lost my faith in humanity there.”

“UM, EXCUSE ME, YAMA-SAN, WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN????”

Kuroo guffaws, slapping his knee like the grandpa he is, and Bokuto skips over to give both him and Yamada a high-five. Oikawa yells wordlessly in frustration and stomps outside after collecting all his gear.

“GOODNIGHT, JERKS, I HOPE NONE OF YOU SLEEP WELL.”

Hoots follow him down the hall as he marches away, embarrassment warming his cheeks. It’s not his fault Iwaizumi has been taking it upon himself to call every night, even that one day he had to do overtime and got home late. Oikawa insisted he wasn’t sleepy, so they ended up talking until Iwaizumi passed out. Needless to say, it's been an amazing few days.

Besides, what else is Oikawa supposed to do when the love of his life calls him, ignore it? Go out for drinks with his friends like a normal, healthy man at the peak of his youth? Ha, good joke.

But now that Kuroo’s brought it up, Oikawa considers the idea of skyping. He can’t remember the last time he’s done it with Iwaizumi, since they used to only text when either of them travelled, and there was no need otherwise for them to talk via video. Oikawa bites his bottom lip, giddiness kicking up in his chest. For once, Kuroo has come up with a good idea.

He takes the bus back to the hotel and orders some spaghetti for take-out from the restaurant on the first floor, then rides the elevator up to his room. After a brisk shower, he leaves his phone ringing on speaker on his bed, and throws on his second comfiest pyjama set (royal blue with purple alien heads, a birthday gift from Matsukawa).

 _“Hey.”_ Iwaizumi’s tinny voice is kind of quiet even in the silent room, so Oikawa reaches over to turn up the volume before wandering over to the desk to grab his food.

“Hi, Iwa-chan!” he calls over. “Whatcha doin’? Are you busy?”

_“Nah, I got home pretty early today. I’m heating up my dinner now.”_

“Me, too! I got spaghetti and meatballs today, yuuumm.”

_“What the hell, I got spaghetti and meatballs too. That’s creepy.”_

“It’s called sync, Iwa-chan, sync! Alternatively, fate! Destiny!”

_“Shut up.”_

“Heh.” Oikawa takes his food out of the microwave and plops down in a chair, pulling the phone closer to him. “Say, Iwa-chan. Guess who has an amazing idea.”

There’s rustling on the other side of the line, what sounds like a plastic bag and a container being popped open. _“Do I want to know?”_

“Yes, because it’s brilliant. Drumroll, please...are you ready?”

_“No.”_

“We should totally skype!!”

_“What. Why.”_

“Iwa-chan! You could stand to be a little more enthusiastic! Aren’t you excited to see my beautiful face?”

A scoff. _“Why would I be? Your voice is annoying enough.”_

“WOW, THAT IS SO RUDE, YOU ARE SO RUDE, WHY IS EVERYONE SO RUDE TO ME.”

Iwaizumi pretends not to hear his complaining. _“Why, are you feeling lonely over there? What happened to me being ‘super bored and lost in life’ without you, huh? Mister...what was it? Joy of my monotonous existence. Cherry on top of my milkshake. Chocolate chips in my mint ice cream.”_

Oikawa feels his entire face flush with heat, though he’s unsure why. “How mean! I just thought to brighten up your day since you were definitely missing the ketchup and mustard and relish on your hot dog—”

_“That sounds like some kind of weird metaphor for my dick.”_

Oikawa fumbles his bowl, nearly dropping it, and a bit of spaghetti sauce splatters on the bed. “I-I-I-I-IWA-CHAN!” he splutters, floundering for a tissue to wipe the drops of sauce off his mattress and phone. “You can't just—that's sexual harassment! And it—that would be nasty, it sounds like you have gonorrhea or something—”

Iwaizumi chokes on a laugh, the sound cutting off for a second before coming back loud and clear. _“Holy fuck, you idiot, I’m eating.”_

“YOU’RE THE ONE THAT BROUGHT UP YOUR GENITALS!” Oikawa shrieks, giving up and just flinging his fork somewhere. “You’ve ruined my appetite! And my delicious spaghetti!”

Iwaizumi just laughs harder. It’s hard to stay annoyed when it’s such a gorgeous sound. _“All right, all right,”_ Iwaizumi breathes. _“Don’t be mad. Go on, get your laptop so we can skype.”_ Oikawa ignores him petulantly. _“What, you don’t want to anymore? You sure? We could eat together, it would be just like when you’re home, and I can put on that stupid K-drama in the background so you can listen to Woo Bin’s ‘dashing’ voice.”_

Oikawa holds on to his sulk for a little longer, just to make a point. “...Really?”

 _“Yeah,”_ Iwaizumi sighs, laughter lingering in his voice. _“I’m turning on the TV now, can you hear it?”_

Oikawa sniffs. “Yes,” he lies. He can’t hear it, but that doesn’t matter, because he doesn't want the TV to drown out Iwaizumi's voice anyway. “Fine, I’ll go get my laptop.”

_“I’m gonna hang up, then.”_

“’Kay.”

Oikawa sets everything up, and short minutes later, he’s waiting for the call to connect. Iwaizumi’s chin pops up into view, the slightest bit prickly like it usually gets by nighttime. “Ewwww, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whines. “Back up a little, I can only see your gross alien beard.”

 _“You love aliens,”_ Iwaizumi reminds him, smugness in his smirk as he rolls back his chair until Oikawa can see from his head all the way down to his chest. He’s wearing a loose, black tank top, biceps thick and strong, and Oikawa tries not to stare too obviously. _"You’re just jealous you couldn’t grow a beard if you tried.”_

“Low blow,” Oikawa grumbles, shoveling food into his mouth. “Says the gorilla.”

_“Uh huh.”_

Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything for a bit, watching Oikawa chew on his noodles. His features relax into his trademark Resting Scowl Face, though the skin around his eyes crinkles a little. “What?” Oikawa mumbles. “You’re making it hard to eat.”

 _“Nothing.”_ Iwaizumi’s smirk returns. _“Just thinking that you have no right to call me a gorilla with the disgusting way you eat.”_

“IWA-CHAN!” Oikawa wails.

* * *

_Day 56._

It’s been a long two weeks, and Oikawa is exhausted by the end of it, tired of take-out (even if it is quite delicious) and scratchy hotel beds and playing volleyball from day to night.

Most of all, though, he’s tired of the lack of Iwaizumi.

The phone calls are nice and the rare skype calls even nicer, but he’s used to seeing his best friend at least once a day, and now that they’ve progressed to kissing, the pining has only gotten worse. It’s unbearable, it leaves Oikawa’s leg bouncing, his fingers twitchy and restless. He wants to _touch_. Even Kuroo and Bokuto have opted to give him a wide berth, probably sensing the thunder clouds that continue to accumulate above his head as each second drags on.

When the day of departure finally arrives, Oikawa could literally cry from relief. Volleyball is important to him; if not number one, it’s at the very least number two in his heart. After winning not only a gold medal but also a world-recognized award for Best Setter, he can say that his dreams have been achieved. Of course, the more medals, the better, and he’ll never stop pushing his limits to see how far he can go. But lately, he’s starting to think that maybe there are other areas of his life that he wants to focus on. There is more that he wants from his time on this world, other than just volleyball. He’s even begun to consider maybe picking up a couple hobbies, or studying something in his spare time.

Like the musculature of one Iwaizumi Hajime, but, y’know. That one’s a given.

The bus ride to the airport is a pain, and riding the airplane is a pain, his ears popping as they ascend despite how vigorously he chews his gum. The air is so dry he's afraid he'll get a nosebleed and the constant whirring of machinery is so loud he can't listen to his movie properly. Waiting and grappling for his luggage is also a pain, especially since it's heavier with souvenirs now. But none of that matters, because home is only minutes away.

To his immense delight, his housemate is waiting for him at Arrivals just as he promised he would, arms crossed as he leans against a pillar, eyes trained on the gate. It’s eight in the evening but he’s still in his work clothes, forgotten nametag hanging from his neck. Oikawa’s glad that at least he doesn’t look too tired.

“Iwa-chan!” he shouts, waving with the arm that isn’t pushing his luggage cart. “Iwa-chaaannn!”

Iwaizumi’s eyes light up when they spot him and he pushes off the pillar, meeting Oikawa halfway. “Shut up, I heard you the first time,” he grumbles, instantly snagging and shouldering the heaviest carry-on. A pressure that weighs tons more than the bag lifts from Oikawa’s shoulders. It's difficult to word how nice it is to hear Iwaizumi's voice in person and be able to see the texture of his spiky hair. 

“Hi,” he says, beaming. Iwaizumi’s frown lightens a little.

“Hey. Tired?”

“Mmm, sort of. The airplane dinner was unexpectedly good though, I even asked the flight attendant for a couple extra puddings! They’ll be Iwa-chan’s reward if you’re nice to me for the rest of the day.”

Iwaizumi’s expression twists as he obviously debates between telling Oikawa to fuck off and being just the teensiest bit less belligerent for the sake of pudding, which he mentioned a few days ago that he was craving.

“It’s made with Hokkaido milk,” Oikawa adds, grin widening.

Iwaizumi groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine, goddammit, I won’t call you any fucking names for the rest of the day.”

Oikawa raises a brow.

“And I’ll help you unpack,” Iwaizumi concedes with a pained exhale, then turns tail like he’s trying to run from the site of his defeat.

Oikawa lets out a whoop and skips to catch up to him, wrapping himself around Iwaizumi’s free arm and nuzzling his cheek into a firm shoulder. “I knew Iwa-chan could do it. I’m so proud of you.” He watches in glee as Iwaizumi’s jaw clenches and a vein pulses in his forehead.

“You should’ve just stayed in Hokkaido.”

“Aww, but what would you do without the joy of your monotonous existence?”

“Be happy.”

“WOW, OKAY, GUESS WHO’S NOT GETTING THEIR PUDDING?”

“What the fuck, you can’t go back on a promise, that’s so shitty!”

“What’s shitty is your attitude, Iwa-chan! You said you’d be nice! I’m not sensing any nice vibes whatsoever!”

Iwaizumi growls and violently hip-checks him, but doesn't make him let go of his arm. “Fuckin’ fine, I’ll show you how nice I can be. Ask me again.”

“Huh?”

“Ask me, goddammit.”

“Okay...what would you do without the joy of your monotonous existence?”

“Die.”

Oikawa gasps in pleasure before he realizes the double meaning. “Wait, are you saying you’d die or are you telling me to die?!”

“Of course I meant that _I’d_ die,” Iwaizumi tells him in a syrupy voice, so sweet and viscous that Oikawa wants to lick him. But then Iwaizumi turns to him, and Oikawa meeps and recoils at his smile, which oozes a depravity Satan would be proud of. “What would I do without you? Eat all my hot dogs bare?”

“Okay, fine, I’ll give you your stupid pudding so stop looking at me like that!”

Iwaizumi’s smile slants into a snobby smirk instead, and Oikawa should be pissed, but honestly, he just finds it kind of hot.

“Let’s hurry home,” Iwaizumi says, voice back to normal.

Oikawa snorts. “Never have I seen a man so excited for pudding.”

“Shut it.”

They load the luggage into the trunk of the car, which Oikawa notices has been cleaned. They don’t drive often, since the train system is so efficient in Tokyo, but occasionally Iwaizumi has to travel away from the bustle of the city for his interviews, or Oikawa needs a ride to the airport. After winning his gold medal and buying his parents the car they’d had their eye on for a while as a thank-you-and-celebration gift, Iwaizumi and Oikawa were given their old Honda, which suited their needs perfectly. Sometimes it sits in their condo garage for months, so the fact that there isn’t a speck of dust anywhere makes Oikawa feel warm and fuzzy. Iwaizumi’s magical ability to create time to do nice things for the people around him is something Oikawa has always loved and admired.

On the way back, they sit in comfortable silence, a J-Pop radio station playing quietly in the background. There isn’t much for them to update each other on since they’ve been talking practically every day, and after the initial adrenaline of seeing Iwaizumi, Oikawa’s feeling the exhaustion catching up to him. The streetlights in Tokyo flash by more frequently and brightly than the ones in Hokkaido, especially in the blackness of night, but it doesn’t bother him much. He rests his face against the cool window and lets himself drift into unconsciousness, fully relaxed with Iwaizumi’s calmness and control at the wheel.

Oikawa wakes a few minutes before they get home, slightly refreshed after his nap, but mind still woozy. He yawns and stretches, wrinkling his nose at the gross taste in his mouth. Right on cue, Iwaizumi hands him a cold bottle of tea.

“Thanks.”

Iwaizumi grunts. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna stay up for another few hours.” Oikawa takes large gulps of the tea. “If I sleep now I’ll end up waking at some godawful time like four a.m.”

“Hm. Gonna watch your drama?”

“I dunno, maybe. I feel like just lying around for a while, actually.” Iwaizumi grunts again, pulling smoothly into their parking spot.

Despite Oikawa’s protests, Iwaizumi handles most of the luggage on his own and they slowly climb up the stairs to their apartment. “Let’s unpack tomorrow,” Oikawa decides. “I’m pooped.” His best friend nods in agreement, dumping all the stuff in their genkan. Oikawa closes and locks the front door behind them and is reaching over for the light switch when he’s stopped by hands on his cheeks and Iwaizumi’s mouth on his.

He lets out a gasp, then a tiny moan of relief, twining his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck and pressing close. Iwaizumi’s palms are warm and familiar, one sliding to the nape of his neck, the other down to his lower back. Oikawa catches a whiff of his addicting scent when the other man pushes him gently into the wall, head tilted at the perfect angle to lick into Oikawa’s mouth. His tongue is wet and hot, sliding sensually against Oikawa’s. He’s surrounded by Iwaizumi on all sides, those muscular arms, broad shoulders, gentle hands, soft lips. Oikawa can’t help but melt into him.

He's kissed many people before, but none of them have ever made him feel anything like this, like he’s getting his soul sucked out of his mouth, leaving his limbs wobbly and overwhelmed but his heart so full he’s afraid it’ll burst. Desperate for air, his lips separate from Iwaizumi’s with a noise that makes him flush. Iwaizumi kisses along his jaw instead, open-mouthed until he reaches the junction of his neck, then gradually switching to small pecks. He plants a few up to Oikawa’s ear, nips the lobe once playfully, before finally stopping. Then he just stays there, nudging his nose affectionately into the side of Oikawa’s neck, breathing him in. Oikawa clings to him, burying his entire face into Iwaizumi’s shoulder in bliss.

Long moments later, Iwaizumi huffs out a sigh, then slowly pulls away until he can properly look at Oikawa. Oikawa literally feels his death approaching when Iwaizumi kisses the tip of his nose, those beautiful hazel eyes liquid in warmth. “Welcome home,” Iwaizumi whispers into the centimeter of space between them.

“I’m home,” Oikawa whispers back, smile shaky.

They stare at each other for a moment longer until Oikawa can’t take it anymore and blurts, “My voice cracked just now, did that ruin the moment?”

Iwaizumi groans and headbutts him. “Go back to Hokkaido, you bastard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6k words of fluff cuz we all need that shit in our lives


	7. Days 62-79

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLOOOOO just a note that rating has been changed for future chapters~ it's gonna get explicit, dont say i didnt warn ya ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

_Day 62._

“What are you researching?”

Oikawa looks up from his scribbling and pushes his glasses higher on to his nose. “Hobbies!” he proclaims, brandishing his notepad. Iwaizumi gets up from where he’s sprawled on the couch watching baseball and joins him at the dining table, taking in the twenty tabs Oikawa has open on his laptop. Then his gaze drifts down to the neat notes Oikawa has organized on paper, eyebrows drawing together.

“You mean hobbies for you?”

“Yup! Now that the Hokkaido tournament is over, I have a bunch of free time, so I figured I’d use the opportunity to enjoy life more.”

“Hm, makes sense.”

“Uh huh. So what do you think?”

Iwaizumi pulls their other chair closer and takes a seat, looking confused. “About what?”

“Which one do you think suits me best?” Oikawa holds the notepad up to his face. He’s written down ‘photography,’ ‘painting,’ ‘baking,’ and ‘blogging,’ followed by a comparison of pros and cons for each. Iwaizumi reads every word carefully, frowny in concentration. Oikawa resists the urge to kiss him.

“They all seem fine. Which one are you leaning towards?”

“I don’t know.” Oikawa sighs. “I kind of want to try them all.”

Iwaizumi shrugs and leans back, arms folding over his chest. “Why not?”

“Isn’t that impractical, though?”

“Nobody said you had to throw yourself into every single one. You could try a little of each before deciding on one or two that you like the best.” Iwaizumi squints at him accusingly. “Just don’t get obsessed and spend a shit-ton of money to get all the best gear or whatever before you make up your mind. On second thought, don’t get obsessed at all. Hobbies are for fun, there’s no such thing as being the best at it. Moron.”

“Why’re you calling me a moron before I've even done anything?” Oikawa whines, but he’s secretly thrilled at the way Iwaizumi is taking the whole idea seriously and being so supportive. Definitely hubby material. What a keeper. Oikawa sure knows how to choose ‘em.

“Because you are.”

“Rude!”

Iwaizumi smirks. “So what would you blog about?”

“Huh?”

“Well, people know you—” he pointedly ignores Oikawa’s preening, “—so you’d probably have to keep your identity hidden if you made a blog. Unless it’s just about general things in your life.”

Oikawa has considered that too, and so far his ideas only consist of writing about his love woes and taking pictures of food and places he goes and stuff. “Yeah...general things,” he replies vaguely. “But I’m not sure I have the patience for consistent blogging, honestly. I’m thinking of trying out photography first! Mattsun lent me some of his books so I have a better idea of where to start and he said I could borrow his cameras and lenses too.”

Iwaizumi nods. “There’s a flower-viewing festival this weekend at the park. You could try it out there.”

“Oh my god, that’s a great idea!” Oikawa gushes. “I have to text Mattsun ASAP.”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi picks up a book that was buried under Oikawa’s notes, its cover of a lion yawning wide. “Is this one of Matsukawa's?”

“Yup.” Oikawa opens the book to one of his sticky notes. “It’s actually super interesting. See, here it explains frame dynamics, which is techniques on how to fill the image, like placement and cropping and division. And this section is my favourite, ‘composing with light and color.’ And my second favourite, ‘how to best capture motion’.”

“Wow,” Iwaizumi says, gingerly flipping through. “Photography’s a lot more complicated than I thought.”

Oikawa chuckles. “I’m sure you know more than I do, being a sports journalist. You know, finding the most decisive shots and all that jazz.”

“Not really, my job is more the interviewing and writing part. I leave the pictures to the cameramen.” Iwaizumi stops at a photo of a rural Indian town, the people shoe-less and dressed in rags, but the laughter emanating from the page is almost tangible as people gather around a man who’s throwing his gleeful child into the air. They’re all giggling at the sight, the sun setting in the background and casting long shadows over the ground. “Wow,” Iwaizumi exhales, wonder brightening his face. “What’s this one?”

“Ah, this piece is called _Anticipation_! The child is in mid-air so everyone is looking up at her in anticipation, and us viewers too anticipate her falling into her dad’s arms, and the sun is just setting, so we’re anticipating the comfort of night, and...” He continues on, and even though Iwaizumi’s not looking at him, Oikawa knows he’s listening to every word, absorbing it all. They spend the rest of the afternoon like that, Oikawa teaching Iwaizumi the basics, and then pulling out their phones to test out various techniques, making fun of each other’s failed results.

* * *

_Day 65._

It’s a little late for cherry blossom season, but for some reason, the trees in the park by their apartment complex always bloom around this time. Iwaizumi’s sitting against the trunk of one of them, loose-limbed and content as he sips from his tiny cup of sake. Bokuto’s running from group to group, chatting up people of all ages, including everyone's dogs. Oikawa wonders if he actually knows some of these random people in the park, or if he's just that likeable.

“Ahhhh, this is so nice,” Kuroo groans from beside him, spreading out like a starfish on a corner of their humongous picnic blanket. Daichi sits by his legs, cheeks rosy already from his own _choko_ of sake. He picks off a petal that lands in Kuroo’s hair, grinning. Oikawa takes a picture of them.

By now, the other three have grown used to the snapping sounds of his camera, since he’s been at it for the past two hours. At first, they were wary and stiff, having a huge lens pointing in their faces, especially Daichi. But eventually they all mellowed out enough for Oikawa to sneak some seriously amazing candids. Although it does kind of suck that Hanamaki and Matsukawa were too busy to come, Oikawa’s still having a grand time.

“Is it just me or do I smell takoyaki?” Iwaizumi remarks.

Daichi straightens and sniffs the air before lighting up like a Christmas tree. “I’m gonna go get some! You guys want any?” Met with affirmation, he climbs to his feet and practically sprints off to find the source. Oikawa snickers.

“Your boyfriend sure loves takoyaki.”

“He loves all food,” Kuroo drones, sitting up a little. “My cute little piggy.”

“Gross.” Oikawa turns back to his camera. He thumbs the back button to check his pictures, highlighting his favourites.

“Damn, I’m surprised you got such nice ones in this crap lighting,” Kuroo comments. Iwaizumi scoots closer to take a look too.

“You have a knack for this,” he agrees, sounding impressed. 

“Oikawa-san is good at everything, no need to be jealous.” Iwaizumi clicks his tongue and shoves him before settling back against his tree. Kuroo outright ignores him, attention on the screen.

“Wait, the one before,” he says. Oikawa goes back to the previous picture. “Mm. Send me that one.”

The photo is of Daichi with his face pointed up at the sky, eyes closed in the breeze and petals dancing in the air around him. The fairy lights looping around each tree in the background are blurred into overlapping circles, a perfect model of bokeh. “Would you look at that,” Kuroo sighs. Oikawa lightly jabs his elbow at his head.

“You’re such a sap.”

“Like you’re any better.”

“Shut up.”

They continue to skim through the pictures, Oikawa going back, back, back until he sees a flash of up-close skin and slams the camera to his chest. “Ooookay, that’s it for today!” he exclaims with a shrill laugh at the same time that Kuroo gasps loudly.

“What was that!”

“What was what?” Oikawa feigns, turning the camera off with a click.

“That!” Kuroo shoots a glance at Iwaizumi who’s staring at them in bewilderment and suspicion. “Uh...ohohoho?”

“Don’t ohoho me,” Oikawa snaps, smacking him across the head. “It was—nothing!”

Kuroo leans in so close Oikawa can count his eyelashes. “Show me,” he hisses.

“Okay, okay,” Oikawa whispers back. “Just be quiet!” He turns the camera on again and goes back to the picture. It’s a zoomed-in photo of Iwaizumi asleep on the couch, shirtless after his shower, water droplets still glittering on his sharp collarbones. One arm is flung over his head and the other lies across his abs. His face is turned towards Oikawa, serene and soft, lips parted.

“Motherfucker,” Kuroo says under his breath. “You need to hit that.”

Oikawa kicks him in the shin.

“Hey, guys!” Daichi returns with four steaming boxes, one of them open and already half-devoured. “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing!” Oikawa chirps, and Iwaizumi rolls his eyes.

“I don’t know and I don’t want to know,” he sighs.

“Sawamura, you bought _four_ boxes?!” Kuroo squawks. “I was just gonna steal a couple from yours!”

“That’s why I got you your own, bastard. No one steals my takoyaki.”

“Wow, Dai-chan loves takoyaki more than he loves you.”

“Hey, shut your trap!”

* * *

_Day 69._

Oikawa drops off the camera and everything at Matsukawa’s place the next day because the other man’s got a wedding gig, and then he goes home and scrolls through all the photos he saved to a USB. The majority of the artsy, try-hard ones turned out fine. Not amazing or anything, but nice enough to look at. Still, Oikawa likes the candids a million times more, even if some of them ended up blurry or too dark. He considers printing out a few, but there isn’t any photo paper in the house, and their colour printer sucks. Maybe he’ll get them done at a photo-editing store another time.

When Iwaizumi asks him whether he’ll be sticking with photography, he shrugs. Taking pictures can be fun and refreshing, but he doesn’t want to splurge on a camera and other accessories when he’s not absolutely in love. Besides, phone cameras are plenty for the types of photos he prefers to take, anyway.

In the meantime, Oikawa moves on to painting. He finds a groupon for three discounted classes with an apparently well-known painter from the city, and decides that that’s a better starting point than his original plan of following Bob Ross videos. Since it’s a trial, there’s no need for him to prepare his own materials, which is perfect because he literally owns nothing in terms of art supplies.

His first session is at nine a.m. on a Tuesday morning, which Iwaizumi coincidentally has off that week. His best friend wakes earlier than normal to see him out, probably sensing his nerves. Oikawa isn’t very good with change, and even less good with going into things blind, even if his head knows that this is just for recreation.

“Stop freaking out,” Iwaizumi tells him, leaning against the genkan wall, hair messy from sleep and stubble still unshaved. “Go and paint something beautiful or horrible. It doesn’t matter, as long as you have fun.”

“I know.” Oikawa pouts. “But I wish you or anyone else could’ve come with me.”

“I can’t today.” Iwaizumi shakes his head. “I have to finish that presentation.”

“Yeah, I remember.” Oikawa frowns sadly. “Okay, well, I guess I’m off then. See you in a few hours, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi’s lips press into a line. “Stop looking like your dog just died, Trashykawa.”

“I can’t help it! I’m nervous! I’ve never been to this kind of extracurricular class! And I won’t know anyone there!”

“None of those other people are gonna care how well you can paint. They’re all there to do their own thing.”

“I know, I know...but still...”

Iwaizumi sighs. “C’mere.”

Oikawa shuffles closer, expecting the goodbye peck that has become somewhat frequent as of late, but instead, Iwaizumi wraps him up in a choking hug. It’s exactly what Oikawa needs. He curls himself into the other man’s firm chest and shoulders, pressing his face to his skin and inhaling deeply. Iwaizumi kisses his neck.

“You’ll do great,” he murmurs. Oikawa wants to cry. It’s all very dramatic for a send-off to a dumb painting class.

 

 

 

Oikawa tries for a confident smile as he walks into the classroom that’s really just a rented office space in a tall office building. The small room is filled with mostly hipster teenagers and middle-aged women who either look like meek homemakers or glamorous poodle-whisperers. No one pays him much attention, but he feels self-conscious anyway in this sea of people who all seem very artsy-fartsy, when he can barely draw a UFO before someone (except Iwaizumi, because he always knows) asks him what it is.

He chooses a spot in the back corner and tries to look inconspicuous behind his easel as he takes a sweep of the place, wondering what they’ll be painting today. He doesn’t see any fruit or vases, so maybe they won’t be doing that, thank god. Oikawa wants to paint something fun.

“G-G-G-Grand King Oikawa-san!”

Oikawa turns to see a puny blond girl in the seat next to him, looking at once terrified and surprised and a tiny bit relieved. Something about her tickles at his memory, but he can’t recall. “Umm...forgive me, little lady, but have we met?”

“Oh!” She smacks herself on the forehead. “Right, sorry! You probably don’t remember me! I was Karasuno’s manager during your third year along with Kiyoko-san, we met a few times during matches!”

“Ahh,” Oikawa tries to dig for her name. “Was it...Yachi-chan?”

“Yes!” she grins, her terror completely evaporating for sunshine and rainbows. “I’m Yachi Hitoka, it’s nice to meet you! Again. Haha.” Oikawa smiles and inclines his head.

“Same here.”

“So I know this is random but I saw your last match on TV, it was soooo coooool, ahhhh, sure brings me back to my high school days even though I haven’t actually been on a court in years, hahaha, can you believe that! After going to university and then studying to take over our family business, I just haven’t had the time, things have been so hectic, and even though I don’t regret it at all, sometimes I miss volleyb—ah, sorry I’m rambling!”

Oikawa holds back a chuckle. “No, no, please go on. What’s your family business?”

Yachi perks up, glowing with pride and excitement. “We own a bakery!”

“For real? I was just recently thinking of getting into baking, actually.”

Unexpectedly, they fall into easy conversation. Oikawa doesn’t have any friends with Yachi’s kind of personality, so enthusiastic and utterly harmless, with not a calculating bone in her body. He never thought he’d be compatible with the pure-and-innocent type, but it’s easy to get swept up in the ups and downs of her unbridled emotion. By the time the teacher arrives, Oikawa has gone from polite interest to raving about alien movies, summer festivals, and upcoming end-of-season clothing sales, all of which Yachi apparently shares a passion for as well.

The instructor gives them an hour-long run-through of various painting techniques for landscapes before setting them free to choose their own reference pictures. She walks between the easels, checking each reference and giving tips on how to start. Oikawa estimates that it’ll take her a while to migrate her way to them, so he leans over to peek over Yachi’s shoulder.

“Yacchaaan, what’s the difference between acrylics and oils?”

Yachi taps her chin in thought. “I think the main one is that acrylics dry faster? Oils take a long time, but that also makes them easier to blend. Oh! And it can be trickier to layer oils.”

“I guess I’ll start with acrylics then, since I’m a newbie.” Yachi bobs her head.

“I think most people generally start with them! I’m still pretty new too, so that’s what I’m sticking with, hehe.”

They weave between the other students to the front of the classroom, where various types of paint are organized in colour-coded baskets. Oikawa grabs a batch of cool-toned acrylics, Yachi some warm-toned ones, so that they can share. Kaga-san approaches them as they sit back down and asks what they’ll be painting. Oikawa shows her on his phone a photo he took at the flower-viewing festival a few days ago, and she compliments his choice, giving him a few pointers before moving on to Yachi.

Still, the blank canvas is daunting, so Oikawa sits there for a bit with a frown. He eventually decides to sketch out an approximate outline of the tree first, as well as the grassy hill and picnic blanket. Satisfied, he sits farther back to make sure the proportions are right, comparing with the photo. He sucks at drawing from imagination, but copying from a reference like this isn’t too hard.

Starting with the trunk of the tree first, he picks a shade of brown that doesn’t turn out to be dark enough, so he mixes a tiny droplet of black into it on his palette. His brush strokes start off slow, but he realizes he needs to move more quickly when he remembers Yachi’s warning about acrylics drying fast. He finishes the entire trunk in seconds, but something about it doesn’t look right.

“Looking good, Oikawa-kun,” Kaga-san says from behind him, making him jump. “I would suggest adding some deeper brown around these areas, however. Do you see the shadows on your picture? That’s because of the fairy lights that are strung around the branches, their brightness makes parts of the trunk darker. So try to copy the shadows you see and paint those in, and don’t worry too much about making your lines perfect, it looks more natural if it’s a little bit messy. And the good thing about acrylics is that you can layer over and over again, so don’t mind any mistakes, either.”

“I see, thank you!” Enlightened, Oikawa gets back to work, propping his phone right on the easel so that he can compare it to his canvas better. After a bit of experimentation, he figures out that the best way seems to be to paint a base layer of colour first, before going over any areas that need to be brighter or darker with an adjusted shade. He’s not good enough to be able to look and know exactly what colour any shadows should be yet, since his mind processes each shade as the original colour with a darker cast over it, rather than its own unique shade.

The next hour flies by, and Oikawa finishes the session with a roughly painted tree trunk and green hill. He’ll have to work on the texture of the grass a bit more next time, but for now, he’s happy with his progress.

“Oikawa-san, that looks so good for your first time!” Yachi cries, sounding genuinely impressed.

“Why, thank you~” He glances at Yachi’s painting of a beach and is shocked at how real the sand looks, tiny grains and sloping dunes carefully dotted out. “Holy cow, Yacchan, you’re so good at this!”

“Nah, not really,” she blushes. “I just go to the beach a lot.”

“What kind of reasoning is that!” Too cute. Oikawa pats her on the head.

They clean up the paints and replace everything neatly, setting aside their easels to dry. “Are you coming to the Friday class?” he asks as he zips up his jacket and shoulders his bag.

“Yup! Are you, Oikawa-san?”

“Mm-hm, I don’t have practice that day either.”

“Oh, good to hear! I’m so glad. I actually haven’t taken a painting class since I was in elementary school, so coming here alone made me really nervous.”

“Same with me! At least we’ll have each other next time.”

“Yeah!”

They ride the elevator down to the ground floor, chattering about other inane things. As they approach the glass doors leading outside, Oikawa notices a familiar figure standing on the sidewalk, one hand in his pocket and a tray of coffee in the other.

“Iwa-chan!” He speeds the rest of the way and throws the doors open. Iwaizumi turns around.

“Hey, moron. Brought you one of those nasty caramel-soy-milk-whipped-cream-whatever things that you love.”

“Iwa-chan...I thought you had work,” Oikawa snivels as he takes the few steps outside to meet him. “Did you come to pick me up?”

Iwaizumi smirks. “I finished more quickly than I expected, so I thought I’d come walk home an idiot.” Oikawa suppresses the urge to grab him and nestle his face in the fluffy cotton of his sweater. Forest green looks really good on Iwaizumi. So do dark-wash jeans. Man, he just looks good in everything.

“Thanks,” Oikawa mumbles, taking his cup. Iwaizumi cocks his head.

“You don’t seem that depressed or anything.”

“Oh! That’s because...speaking of, I should...” Oikawa spins around to see Yachi staring wide-eyed behind them.

“I-I-I-Iwaizumi-san!”

Quick re-introductions and more gushing about how much she’s heard about Iwaizumi from Kageyama later, Yachi leaves with a happy wave, and the two men set off for the train station.

“So how was it?”

“Really fun.” Oikawa beams. Iwaizumi laughs in a small nose-exhale.

“Told you it’d be fine.”

“Hey! I was just a little jittery this morning, nothing wrong with that!”

Iwaizumi scoffs. “Sure. What’d you paint?”

“We’re doing landscapes, so I chose a picture from last week. Painting the petals is gonna be soooo haard.”

“You doing watercolor or something?”

“Acrylic. Apparently it’s easier to work with for a beginner. I thought about watercolor, but I wanted to try something that would give more color pay-off this time.”

“Oh. Wait, what’s the difference between acrylic and oil paint?”

“Ha! You’ve asked the right person, Iwa-chan! Oikawa-san is an expert on that topic!”

“I highly doubt that.”

"Okay, fine, Yacchan explained it to me in, like, two sentences."

"Thought so."

“Just let me live my moment, dammit!”

* * *

_Day 76._

Two classes later, Oikawa brings home his finished canvas. It’s not perfect, but it turned out better than he anticipated, and it’s proof that he started and completed this task all on his own, the final result of a painstaking amount of effort put into detailing each tiny petal. Not to mention that he truly enjoyed the time he spent on it.

When he unveils the painting on their dining table, Iwaizumi takes it in with round eyes, studying each inch with what looks like awe. Then he grins, wild and proud, and throws an arm around Oikawa’s waist. “Nice,” is all he says.

The next day after work, Iwaizumi hauls home a frame, fits it over the canvas, and hangs it on the living room wall above the couch.

“A little to the left,” Oikawa calls. “Like, five millimeters!”

“You can’t even tell the difference with five millimeters,” Iwaizumi grumbles, but obediently shifts the frame.

“Hmmm...two more to the right!”

“The fuck.”

“There!” Oikawa claps his hands. “Perfect!”

Iwaizumi climbs down the sofa to join Oikawa, and they admire the hues of pink, green, midnight-blue across their beige wall. Iwaizumi pulls Oikawa into his side, leaning down and planting a kiss on the brunet’s cheek, close to his ear. “Good job,” he rumbles, then kisses him again in the same spot, longer this time. Oikawa’s cheeks hurt with the wideness of his grin, his face hot with embarrassment and joy.

* * *

_Day 79._

A distraught Yachi calls him at six in the morning.

“Oikawa-san, I’m so sorry, but would it be possible for you to come in now? I’m sorry, I feel so bad for asking, but our student helper had to go home because of some family trouble and she won’t be back for at least a couple weeks and I’m really sorry, I know we agreed you’d start on Friday but sorry we’re kin—”

“Yacchan!” Oikawa interrupts. “Don’t sweat it. I’ll be there in twenty, ‘kay? Seriously, it's no problem.”

Yachi continues to wail and Oikawa spends another minute reassuring her before hopping out of bed and rushing through his morning routine. He leaves a note to Iwaizumi as explanation and darts out of the apartment for the train station.

When he walks through the unlocked door of the shop and finds Yachi in the back, the blond has flour all the way up to her elbows and is almost violently kneading a ball of dough, tongue sticking out of her mouth. “Oikawa-san!” she cries when she spots him, half-heartedly brushing off her arms. “Come in, come in. I’m sorry, really, this is horrible, I—”

“Yacchan, Yacchan! Shhh.” He holds a finger to her lips. “I don’t mind. Teach me what to do?”

She shows him how to preheat the gigantic ovens and paint raw egg mixture over the croissants. Then she explains how to arrange them on baking sheets, adjust the oven settings, and prep for the next batch. It’s easy, repetitive work, but Oikawa is pleased to get the opportunity to see how a real bakery works behind the scenes. After their last painting session, Yachi asked if Oikawa wanted to kick off his next hobby at her family’s bakery. Elated, Oikawa offered to volunteer part-time when he was free, since he knew they were short on hands with wedding season approaching. He was amazed to learn that the place he’s deemed makes the best milk bread in the city was actually owned by Yachi’s family, and determined to dig at least a couple secret recipes out of them.

A while after they’ve worked out an efficient pace, Yachi de-stresses enough for some idle gossip. Apparently, she’s just dived into a new relationship with her long-time crush ‘Kiyoko-san,’ and she’s so openly ecstatic about it that Oikawa is tempted to gush to her about Iwaizumi. A productive three hours later, they’re finally done, sprawled in white-powdered chairs as they wait the couple minutes before officially opening for business.

“I can’t believe you do this almost every day, Yacchan,” Oikawa moans. “This is hard work!”

“Oh no, usually it’s a lot easier since we have four people opening.” Yachi laughs awkwardly, brushing her bangs from her face. “But, well, you know what happened with one of our employees, and another one quit suddenly, and also my dad caught a cold, so...”

“Wow, that’s awful. I’ll stick around to help for the rest of the day then, it’s not like I had anything planned!”

“Oh, no, Oikawa-san, I can’t possibly—”

“In exchange!” Oikawa points at her from his slouched position. “Teach me how to make milk bread and matcha red bean taiyaki? After work.”

Yachi shoots up and gazes at him with clasped hands, nodding furiously. “Of course, Oikawa-san, whatever you want!”

 

 

 

The front door opens, quietly enough that Oikawa doesn’t notice, but he does hear the gruff “I’m home” that follows. He gasps, scrambling, digging his hands into his hair before remembering there’s matcha powder all over them, and he groans. “Dammit, dammit—IWA-CHAN, DON’T COME IN, OKAY!”

Iwaizumi appears in the doorway of the kitchen, tugging on the knot of his tie. “What the hell? What are you doing?”

“Nooooo!” Oikawa cries, crumpling against the counter to cover as much as he can. “Why’re you home so early! I was gonna surprise you!”

“I’m pretty fucking surprised right now, if that makes a difference.” Iwaizumi steps closer. His forehead smoothes out. “Are you baking? Oh, I completely forgot, you went to Yachi’s today, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Oikawa gripes. “And now I’m making stuff. So get out.” Again, Iwaizumi just ignores him, but his eyebrows slowly climb up, cheeks perking. “Is that red bean? And matcha?”

“No!”

Iwaizumi’s eyes land on the specialized grill sitting near the stove and his lips lift in a tentative smile. “You making matcha red bean taiyaki for me?” Oikawa covers his face with his hands. That expression is so unfair.

Iwaizumi laughs. “Fine, I’m gonna go change. You ate dinner already, right?”

“Yes,” Oikawa pouts. “I hope you didn’t eat much at the company, ‘cause I’m gonna bake a successful batch by the end of tonight if it kills me!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

As the footsteps fade, Oikawa uncovers his face and glares down at the messy countertop. Oh, well. At least Iwaizumi was properly surprised and all.

 

 

“Pour batter into mold and let sit for half a minute,” he mutters to himself, half his attention on piling red bean paste into the mixture and the other half reading the notes he jotted down. “Flip the grill immediately, then cook for two and a half minutes per side...” He nods, closes the mold and flipping it, then starts his timer.

Iwaizumi wanders back into the kitchen, this time in a T-shirt and sweatpants. Oikawa tries to ignore him when he stops beside him, keeping his eyes on the grill.

“Need help with anything?”

“No, you’re not allowed to be part of the cooking process.”

“What, are you still pouting?”

“Hmph.”

“I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to come home early. You didn’t text me.”

“Ugh, I know!” A shrill beeping fills the room and Oikawa quickly flips the grill, then restarts the timer. “It’s not like I wanted you to not come back anyway, I’m just mad at the world! For ruining my impeccable plans!” Iwaizumi snorts and disappears from Oikawa’s side. The brunet relaxes, thinking Iwaizumi's finally gonna be good and go watch TV in the living room or something.

Then arms snake around his waist and warmth presses into his back. Oikawa gasps audibly, freezing in place. Iwaizumi’s sharp chin rests against his shoulder and he sighs almost imperceptibly, nose brushing Oikawa’s hair. “Thanks,” he murmurs.

Oikawa doesn’t hear him. This is a back hug. He’s receiving a real back hug, for the first time in his entire life. It’s the stuff made of fairytales and K-dramas and shoujo manga everywhere, and he can see why because he can feel his heartbeat in his head, his back, his fingers and toes, throbbing the way it does when he’s just been kissed on the mouth. There’s something frighteningly intimate about it, being engulfed in Iwaizumi’s heat, his chest and abdomen flush with Oikawa’s back. Oikawa’s face burns.

 _Romance_ , his mind chants. _This is romance._

The timer goes off again, shattering the silence, and he jabs it off before flinging the grill open. The taiyaki looks perfectly cooked, to Oikawa’s greatest shock, but he doesn’t let himself stew in the miracle and gently pulls it out with a fork. Iwaizumi loosens his grip a little but doesn’t let go the whole time he works. Oikawa can feel his gaze, watching with interest.

He coaxes out the second taiyaki too and arranges them on their prettiest plate, the one with bamboo shoots that came as part of a set given to them by Iwaizumi’s parents. He opens his mouth to speak, finds his throat dry. “Um. It’s done.” It’s awkward talking to someone he can’t see. Iwaizumi seems to come to his senses, releasing Oikawa and taking a step back.

“Looks good,” he marvels. “Hate to admit it, but I’m impressed.”

“Hey!” Oikawa whirls around. “What’s that supposed to mean! And you haven’t tasted it yet, so don’t get your hopes up too high. Though I’m sure it’s absolutely delectable, since I made it.”

Iwaizumi clicks his tongue but follows Oikawa to the living room table, twitchy in excitement as they take a seat. Oikawa scoffs and shoves the plate at him. “Try it, you mongrel.”

Iwaizumi takes one carefully, blows on it for a second, then sinks his teeth into the head of the confection. Oikawa waits, gnawing on his bottom lip. But his best friend doesn’t say anything, just takes another bite, then another. He’s halfway through the body of the damn fish when Oikawa can’t take it anymore and asks, “Well?”

Iwaizumi grins at him, mouth full and a crumb on his upper lip. “Ih goof.”

“Really?” Hope and pride blossom in Oikawa’s chest. “Not overcooked? Or undercooked?”

Iwaizumi swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “No. If you really wanted to, you could leave it in a few extra seconds next time for extra crispiness, but otherwise, it’s really fuckin’ good.”

“And flavour? How’s the matcha? Too bitter? Is there too much filling? I put in a lot 'cause you’re always complaining about how there isn’t enough when we buy them from vendors.”

“Nah, it’s great.” Iwaizumi leans across the table and kisses him full on the lips, then shoves the other taiyaki in Oikawa’s mouth. “Try it yourself.”

Oikawa bites into it, but he can’t taste much past the lingering sweetness of Iwaizumi’s kiss. The taiyaki must be good, if Iwaizumi is inhaling it like that.

Oikawa smiles, adoration overflowing from his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> moaaarr fluff


	8. Days 86-93

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man i am so sorry this update took forever, school is kicking my ass
> 
> i have all of the rest of the story outlined and around 1/5 of it actually written, it's just taking a little longer than i initially expected so i ask for your patienceeeee
> 
> warning: it gets explicit starting from this chapter!

_Day 86._

Iwaizumi glares out the train window, watching the city below crawl with life even in the darkness of night. It’s a sea of suits on the streets, and Iwaizumi can imagine their long, haggard faces.

Another late day for him, another dinner spent half-heartedly chewing take-out between final interview checks instead of at home with Oikawa. If rage weren’t roaring underneath his skin, he knows he’d be tired enough to pass out right here in his seat.

Too bad his mind doesn’t seem ready to slow down yet. A ball of heat has been rolling in his chest all day, unrelenting, building like a snowball rolling downhill, and now it’s slowed but he doesn’t know how to deal with the path it’s left behind.

He lowered his head to Nishida Souichi today, because the asshole sent in a complaint to NHK citing feelings of “discomfort” and “humiliation” during his interview. Anyone who watched the thing would know he was spouting bullshit, but in exchange for a “heartfelt apology,” his agency promised an exclusive interview with the top batter, so NHK had no choice but to accept. Iwaizumi’s direct bosses assured him he was under no obligation to do the apology himself, as the interview questions weren’t his to begin with, which meant the responsibility fell on his executive manager. But he also knew how important such an interview could be, and it didn’t feel right to ask anyone else to go. So he bought a bottle of _Junmai Daiginjo_ from the best sake specialty shop in Tokyo, reminded himself of the people depending on him, and forced a ninety-degree angle bow to the biggest asshole he’s ever met. He made sure his apology was perfectly sincere, his expression pleasant and contrite, and left as soon as it was socially acceptable to do so.

Iwaizumi loves his job. He struck gold when he was accepted for an internship at NHK, which led to an immediate full-time position post-graduation. He was ecstatic. He loves the thrill, the action, the energy of the crowds, his co-workers. The fact that NHK is so picky about their hires means that the journalism department is often under-staffed, which, in turn, means overtime for Iwaizumi and his colleagues approximately once a week. With the work itself being enjoyable, he usually doesn’t mind too much. But sometimes, problems arise even when he does everything right, and he just wants to forget it all and go home. To his best friend, who he knows will never think less of him, no matter what walls Iwaizumi meets at work.

He knows his face right now will scare the other passengers, so he keeps it turned to the window, alternating between looking outside and at his own frightening reflection when they pass through tunnels. Maybe he should've gone to the batting center first to blow off some steam. But they're probably all closed by now, so he resigns himself to walking the long way home from the station. It does little to calm him, and his frustration only rises when he fumbles his keys at the front door.

“Fuck,” he hisses, swiping them from the ground. “Goddamn shitty keyhole, son of a bitch.”

He finally finds the right key and stuffs it in the lock, then jerks the door open. No one is there to greet him, but a sweet smell fills the air, and Iwaizumi takes a deep breath. His migraine eases a little.

“Oikawa,” he calls, slamming the door closed behind him and kicking off his shoes. No reply, but he can hear soft music playing from the direction of the kitchen.

Dropping his briefcase and tearing off his tie to fling somewhere, he stalks towards where the sounds and smells are coming from. Rounding the corner, he’s met with the sight of Oikawa’s back, slouching over the counter with a huge knife in his hands. He’s cutting something, and humming along with a song that’s playing from his phone.

Iwaizumi waits for him to put the knife down before saying flatly, “Is that the soundtrack from your dumb K-drama?”

Oikawa jumps and lets out a tiny screech, whirling around. Iwaizumi’s cheeks twitch, pulling at the severe scowl he’s had on all day. “Iwa-chan! Oh my god, you scared the crap out of me!”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t ‘uh huh’ me!”

Iwaizumi pads closer, leaning over his shoulder to take a peek. “Castella cake?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Oikawa beams. “’Cause you don’t like the super sweet stuff, and Yacchan told me castella was pretty easy to make, so I thought I’d give it a shot. It’s honey-flavoured.”

Iwaizumi stares at him for a moment, then the cake. It looks to be the perfect middle between fluffy and moist. Maybe even good enough to sell. He can’t explain why the sight of it makes his irritation simmer down to mild annoyance.

“Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi sighs. “Nothing. So is it done?”

“Almost, I just have to finish cutting it now.” Oikawa turns back around and picks up the big-ass knife again, carefully slicing. Iwaizumi watches him for a moment, then steps forward and fits himself around Oikawa’s back, coiling tight over his middle. He buries his face in his neck, mumbling, “smells good.” Oikawa goes still, then lets out a stuttered laugh. Iwaizumi can't help but smile against his skin.

“Iwa-chan, you smell like cigarettes.”

“Mph. Had to go to the smoking area to find my boss.”

“Ugh, gross. Why can’t they all quit, they’re making you breathe in second-hand smoke.” Air escapes Iwaizumi in an amused exhale at how Oikawa obviously wouldn’t give a shit whether or not his bosses smoked if Iwaizumi’s health weren’t at stake. “Oh, by the way, I also made tea!” Oikawa chirps. “Thought it’d be a good pick-me-up after your overtime. Unless you just want to sleep, which is fine too since castella tastes great after you refrigerate it for a night...what’re you feeling?”

Iwaizumi hums.

“I’ll take that as ‘Feed me cake before I die.’”

“Mnhh.”

“Okay. Um. Do—do you want to let go, or should we shuffle like this to the couch...?” Iwaizumi laughs out loud at the mental image and releases him.

“I’m gonna go change first.”

“’Kay.”

 

 

When their plates and tea cups are empty, Iwaizumi flops on the couch with a deep groan, rolling on to his back with an arm over his eyes. His migraine is entirely gone, to his relief. Maybe it’s something about Oikawa’s food. He’s good at whatever he puts his mind to, so Iwaizumi wouldn’t be surprised.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Oikawa asks, the edge of the couch sinking under his weight. Iwaizumi sighs again.

“Maybe later.”

“Okay.”

Iwaizumi squints his eyes open, then holds out his arms, and Oikawa smiles his dumb, bashful smile again before wiggling his way between them. He tucks his head under Iwaizumi’s chin, breaths coming a little fast against his collarbone. Iwaizumi presses a kiss into his fluffy brown hair, one hand rhythmically patting his back. The repetition calms something in Iwaizumi’s mind, and his eyelids droop as he loses himself to his thoughts.

Oikawa’s taken a shine to baking, and every time Iwaizumi sees him standing there in the kitchen, brow furrowed and glaring at his notes, he’s hit by the urge to grab the other man in a hug. And do that whole smothering thing, which, objectively, is kind of a worrying urge, but it’s been coming up more and more frequently as of late.

And it’s not just the baking, but Iwaizumi doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Oikawa as happy as he’s been the past few weeks. It’s a thrill to know he holds the power to give a person such joy, and it’s not just any person, but his picky, critical, fastidious best friend. With a peck, he can make Oikawa brighten into child-like, blinding glee. With a kiss on the mouth, all of Oikawa’s hard edges smooth into pliancy, his eyes glossing over and hands gentling with adoration. His transparent exhilaration at something as minor as a back-hug is endearing, to say the least. Which Iwaizumi is sort of loathe to admit, 'cause, great, one more thing for Oikawa to tease him about. But whatever, he’s not the type to lie to himself.

As time goes on, the more Iwaizumi tries these non-platonic touches, the more he wants. He realizes now that in the beginning, what he initially believed was a lack of foresight or consideration was really just selfishness. He kissed Oikawa on the cheek because he was curious to see what would happen. He held Oikawa’s hand because he wanted to know how it would feel being loved by the other. He did it all on purpose, to be rewarded with a reaction, because it was cute.

But two days ago, he found himself kissing Oikawa on the cheek when the brunet was napping. There was no response to observe from a sleeping person, but he _wanted_ to do it. And today, only seeing Oikawa with his damn castella cake drove away the fury that was stewing in his gut for hours without relief.

Iwaizumi’s not stupid. He knows something is changing, but he’s not sure what the right thing to do is. He just knows he wants to keep going.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa murmurs, and Iwaizumi blinks out of his thoughts. “’m gonna fall asleep if you keep patting me like that.”

“Mmm. Can’t have that happening.”

“So why aren’t you stopping.”

Iwaizumi grunts non-committally. 

Oikawa snorts. “Fine, you’re carrying me to bed.”

“Nah.”

“It’ll be a good work-out. You didn’t get to go to the gym during your lunch break today, did you?”

“No.”

“Exactly.”

Iwaizumi smirks. “But I reject your shitty work-out plan.”

Oikawa sits up and glares at him. “Why! It’s productive and you get to warm up your muscles, two birds with one stone.”

“Shut up, I’m too sleepy to argue with you.”

“Wow, rude.”

“Plus, you’d drool on me if I carried you.”

“I! Do not! Drool!”

“Sure.”

“...”

“...”

“Iwa-chan, if you carry me to my room, I’ll make you whatever dessert you want on the weekend.”

“You’d do that anyway.”

Oikawa gasps. “That’s—not true!”

“Uh huh.”

“IWA-CHAN!”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “All right, god, I’ll carry your idiot ass. Later.”

“It has to be bridal style.”

“...Why.”

“Well, you know how Woo Bin carried Soo Yeon bridal-style a few episodes ago, you know, when she twisted her ankle, right, so I kind of wanted to try it for myself but Makki said no because Mattsun would get jealous and Mattsun said no because Makki would get jealous and Dai-chan said no because Kuro-chan would get jealous and Kuro-chan said no because I’m too fat. So you’re the only option left, Iwa-chan.”

“What an honour.”

“But you’ll do it, right?”

“Fucking hell. Fine, but only if you shut up.”

“’Kay.” Oikawa flops back down, knocking the air out of Iwaizumi’s lungs. “Five more minutes!”

Iwaizumi wheezes. “Damn brat.”

* * *

_Day 93._

“Iwa-chan, have you checked your phone?”

Iwaizumi looks away from the TV to see Oikawa lying upside down on the floor, kicking his legs in the air, bangs flopping over to reveal his forehead. He looks ridiculous, but also sort of cute. Disgusting. “No?”

“Makki signed the papers! For his flower shop! It’s official now!”

“No way,” Iwaizumi grins. “We have to treat him to something.”

“Yeah! Wait, actually...” Oikawa purses his lips, tapping at his phone. “They said they’re gonna go celebrate at that bar in downtown tonight. Mattsun’s asking if we’re free.”

“Now? It’s ten already.”

Oikawa looks at him, his face somehow oozing pity and smugness simultaneously. “Pleeeaaase, Iwa-chan, everyone knows the fun doesn’t start ‘til _at least_ eleven! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” He rolls to his feet like the protagonist from those second-rate spy movies he loves and flies into his room, slamming the door shut. Iwaizumi hears him upending his drawers, muttering about a new pair of jeans. He rolls his eyes and heads for his own room at a more reasonable pace.

Half an hour later, he’s tapping his foot by the genkan, waiting for Oikawa to get out of the goddamn bathroom. “How long are you gonna take, slow-ass! Hanamaki and Matsukawa are already there!”

“Don’t rush me!” Oikawa cries. “Beauty takes time!”

“You have one more minute,” Iwaizumi growls. “Before I leave you here.”

He’s counted to thirty-two by the time the doors burst open, and Oikawa emerges, brown curls bouncier than usual, skin somehow glowing, and—

He’s wearing the tightest pair of jeans Iwaizumi has ever seen in his life.

“C’mon, Iwa-chan, let’s go, we’re gonna be late!” Oikawa flounces past him and bends down to pull on his shoes. Iwaizumi feels his lower abs tighten as he stares at the perky ass in front of him, round and surprisingly full. It takes him a good five seconds before he recognizes the _something_ in the pit of his stomach. He recoils with an audible inhale.

How? Why? Now, after all these years?

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa turns around, concern in his pout. “Why’re you staring off into space?”

Iwaizumi swallows, then clears his throat. “What...are those pants.”

“Oh, these? I bought them during the Armani Boxing Day sale last year, remember? And then I forgot about them until now because there hasn’t been the right occasion...” Oikawa bites his lip. “Why, do they look weird?”

Iwaizumi isn’t listening. His attention has honed in on Oikawa’s lips, and a memory flashes before his eyes, Oikawa moaning between kisses with his shiny, red mouth, clinging to Iwaizumi’s shoulders, Iwaizumi’s hands on his back. But now he imagines moving his hands lower, lower to caress over black denim, then under it to dig his fingers into plump flesh, Oikawa keening into his ear—

“Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi jolts.

“What?” he croaks. His throat is dry.

“Did you hear a word I said?” Oikawa puts his hands on his hips. “Stop zoning out on me!”

“Shit. Fuck.” Iwaizumi closes his eyes, rubs the heels of his hands over them. In the span of under ten seconds, he went from appreciating Oikawa’s backside to imagining himself—fucking groping and squeezing it, like some kind of mindless barbarian. What the fuck is wrong with him? “It’s nothing. Let’s go, the others are waiting.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time!”

“Shut up, Shittykawa.”

 

 

 

Hanamaki and Matsukawa managed to snag a corner table at the bar so they wave the other two over when they arrive. Oikawa disappears for a minute before returning with four shots, ready as always to get down to celebrating.

“A toast to Makki, store manager at twenty-six,” he trills, “geez, what an overachiever!”

The four of them clink glasses and down their shots, Hanamaki’s grin bright as sunshine. “You make it sound like a big deal, but really it’s just me taking over my parents’ place.”

“But that’s kinda even more stressful, isn’t it? ‘Cause you have your regulars and a reputation and your family’s name on the line.”

“Ugh. True that.”

“It’ll be fine.” Matsukawa nudges him with his shoulder. “We’ve all seen you working there, you’re a natural.”

Hanamaki shoves him. “Stop it, you sap.”

“When are your renovations gonna be done?” Iwaizumi asks, circling the rim of his glass with his thumb.

“In another two weeks. And then we open three days after that, so drop by if you guys have the time.”

“We’ll be there.”

“Of course we will! Now c’mon, Makki, let’s get you more drinks,” Oikawa announces, tugging Hanamaki up by the arm. “We’re gonna get you sooooo wasted tonight. Don’t worry, Iwa-chan and I got virgin shots, so we’ll take care of you!” They disappear into the crowd amidst Hanamaki’s weak protests and Oikawa’s laughing insistence.

Matsukawa sits back, relaxing against the couch. Iwaizumi’s about to ask him about work when he says, “So how long are you and Oikawa gonna pretend that nothing’s going on?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes slant into a glare. “Hanamaki told you,” he says, more statement than question.

“Yeah. But Oikawa hasn’t said anything, so we haven’t either.”

“’That so.”

Matsukawa seems to take his non-committal response for what it is, because he doesn’t reply. Iwaizumi appreciates his taciturnity for the moment and leans back, spreading out over the couch with a sigh.

“You’re staring,” Matsukawa says.

Iwaizumi blinks, realizes his gaze is trained on Oikawa at the bar, standing half a head taller than the crowd. “Fuck.”

“You never used to stare before.”

“...What?”

“It was always Oikawa watching you. You know. High school. University. A couple months ago.” Matsukawa’s deceptively lazy gaze meets his. “And you never used to look back.”

Iwaizumi breathes out slowly, even as his pulse speeds up. “So it’s true that he...”

Matsukawa stiffens. “Wait. He hasn’t told you?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head. Matsukawa closes his eyes, lips pressed into a line.

“Shit. Forget I said anything then.”

They stew in silence again, this time in speechlessness. It feels oppressive. Or maybe that’s just the growing pressure in Iwaizumi’s chest.

Hanamaki soon returns with a long island for himself, courtesy of Oikawa, the two of them chatting about Oikawa’s recently discovered love of baking.

“Yacchan was so nice about it, and I was glad I could help out, but even gladder when they managed to hire this new guy. His name’s Yamazaki, he makes the best cream puffs I have ever tasted, _ever_! You wouldn’t expect it from his face, which is, like, the definition of I-don’t-give-a-crap-about-anyone-or-anything-in-this-world.”

“Cream puffs?” Hanamaki gasps. “Uhh, why on earth did you not bring me any?”

“I would’ve if you hadn’t invited us out so last-minute!”

“Excuses, man. I refuse to accept this betrayal. I’ll take this as an opportunity to reconsider our friendship.”

“That’s not faaairr, he was only hired two days ago and I found out about the cream puffs yesterday!”

“Whatever,” Hanamaki sniffs. “Matsukawa would’ve gotten me all the cream puffs.”

“Damn straight.” Matsukawa fist-bumps him.

“You guys are ganging up on meeee,” Oikawa wails, and Iwaizumi can’t help his smirk.

Conversation flows smoothly after that, all of them taking turns to get up and grab drinks. Matsukawa tells them about the bridezilla he had to photograph for his latest gig, complaining that the downsides of freelancing include having to deal with all of his customers personally. Hanamaki goes into detail about the renovations for his flower shop and even makes the mistake of asking Oikawa’s opinion for parts of the interior design, which he immediately vocally regrets when Oikawa starts going off on a tirade about complementary colours. Iwaizumi mentions a bit about what’s going on at his company, but accidentally spends most of his time “bragging” (in Hanamaki’s words) about Oikawa’s baking creations. He’s lost track of the number of rounds of drinks they’ve had by the time Matsukawa leaves for another beer and Oikawa excuses himself to the bathroom.

Hanamaki’s gaze isn’t as sharp as usual anymore from the alcohol, but the slyness in his voice is one-hundred-percent him when he says, “So Oikawa’s looking awfully fuckable tonight.”

Iwaizumi groans, dragging his hands down his face. “You and Matsukawa both, I swear to god.”

“Just sayin’. I mean, it’s not like he dressed up for me and Mattsun. Or any of the other lovely ladies and gentlemen here in this delightful bar. Obviously.”

Iwaizumi knows. Of course he does, his focus hasn’t left Oikawa this whole night, which includes watching the way the latter has been abruptly shutting down every flirty advance. That _something_ feeling has stubbornly made a place in the back of his mind, and it’s similar to what he felt weeks ago before all of this started, when Iwaizumi found himself wanting to kiss Oikawa to draw out that cuteness.

Except now, it’s not cuteness he craves. He wants to taste skin, he wants the sensation of flesh between his teeth, he wants shameless noises, scratches down his back, the cloying scent of sweat and se—

Jesus, he needs to get a grip on himself.

Iwaizumi gets to his feet. “Bathroom,” he grunts.

Hanamaki lets out a whoop. “Go get ‘em, tiger!”

“Shut up.”

“By the way, Mattsun and I are leaving after he finishes his beer, so I’ll see ya both next week.”

“Listen,” Iwaizumi bites out. “I don’t know what you think I’m going to do in the bathroom, but it’s not that.”

Hanamaki sobers, the grin dropping off his face. “Okay. But why?”

“Why? I can’t just—that’s _Oikawa_ —”

“So what? Didn’t stop you from staring at him all night.”

Iwaizumi stares.

Hanamaki sighs. “Iwaizumi, my man, I’m not gonna tell you what’s right or wrong or go do this or go do that or whatever the hell. But c’mon, we all know what you want to do.”

Iwaizumi grits his teeth and looks down at his shoes. “Fuck.”

“Listen to your inner beast, Iwaizumi~”

“What the fuck.”

“At least it knows what it wants.”

Iwaizumi glares, reining in the urge to smack him. “Whatever.”

“I know I’m right. You know I’m right. You know I know I’m right.”

“Shut the hell up,” Iwaizumi groans and makes to grab his collar, but Hanamaki just laughs and elbows his way out of it. Iwaizumi sighs in defeat. “Congrats again, by the way.”

“Oh? Is this goodbye for tonight?”

Iwaizumi scowls, but Hanamaki is unyielding and unapologetic, only raising a brow in question. And part of it is his taunting, but the most important reason is just that Iwaizumi solves problems by tackling them head-on. He’s no good at going in circles.

He stares Hanamaki straight in the eye and nods. It feels like the acceptance of something gigantic and inescapable, but Hanamaki seems nothing less than pleased as he wiggles his fingers as a send-off.

Iwaizumi stalks towards the bathroom, each step fueling the strength of his heartbeat until it’s all he can hear.

The first thing he does when he slams the door open is confirm that the stalls are empty. Oikawa is standing at the sink, startled.

Iwaizumi’s voice comes out as a rasp. “Taking your sweet time in here?”

“Oh, yeah.” Oikawa smiles sheepishly. “I didn’t actually have to use the washroom, I just wanted to wash my face ‘cause it was getting too hot and stuffy...” His last few words trail off, expression shifting as he watches Iwaizumi approach. “Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi reaches out and presses a hand flat against Oikawa’s chest, pushing until the other man is cornered between a wall and Iwaizumi’s body. Oikawa’s eyes widen, his face swallowed by the shadows of the dim bathroom.

“I’m gonna kiss you,” Iwaizumi says quietly. He hears Oikawa’s breath hitch.

“O-Okay.”

Iwaizumi tries to watch his strength, gently fists the brown curls that have been bouncing in the periphery of his vision for hours. But the _something_ that’s been crawling underneath his skin this whole night has reached a breaking point, and his wrist twists a little too roughly. Oikawa’s head falls back, his eyelashes fluttering, the “ah” that escapes from his throat utterly involuntary. A shiver races up Iwaizumi’s spine, and he leans in to finally devour those lips.

Oikawa sighs shakily, his entire body going lax. He lets Iwaizumi control the angle of the kiss, moaning helplessly as Iwaizumi thrusts his tongue into Oikawa’s mouth, sliding wet over soft flesh. Oikawa tastes like the sugary, fruity drinks he’s been guzzling all night, and Iwaizumi doesn’t like sweet things all that much but he can’t deny their deliciousness in this moment. When he sucks on Oikawa’s tongue, the brunet lets out a high-pitched sound that makes Iwaizumi’s blood rush south so quickly that he goes light-headed. He plunders Oikawa’s mouth without mercy, fingers tightening in Oikawa’s soft locks, uses all of his body to press Oikawa flat into the wall. Judging by the sounds the brunet is making and the way his fists clench around Iwaizumi’s hips, he loves it.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whimpers when Iwaizumi finally lets him breathe, dragging open-mouthed kisses down the pale expanse of his neck. His hands come up to grope at Iwaizumi’s chest, searching for purchase. Iwaizumi sucks marks on the skin above his collarbone, then sinks his teeth into the crook of his neck, and Oikawa jerks, squirming. “Yes,” he hisses, “Yes, yes, yes—”

When Iwaizumi shifts for a better grip, he feels Oikawa’s erection rub into his thigh. The way the other man whines makes him raise his knee, stroking the hardness. Oikawa trembles, his mouth falling open. “Iwa-chan—”

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi breathes. “Fuck, we’re leaving right now, Oikawa.”

Oikawa makes a vague noise of question but lets Iwaizumi tug him up and out, neither of them bothering to hide their hard-ons in the darkness.

Iwaizumi keeps his hand a vice around Oikawa’s wrist until the taxi arrives, only letting go so they can slide into their seats. The ride is a mere ten minutes long, but it feels like an eternity and a half with the primitive hunger wrenching inside his stomach. It takes every thread of restraint in him to not reach over and unbutton Oikawa’s shirt, cup his erection, suck a kiss into his neck. Touch him, fondle him until he cries.

Iwaizumi has always hated the sight of his best friend’s tears, but imagining the stubborn, headstrong man crying in desperation for him has sweat beading on the back of his neck.

Iwaizumi’s desperation has built to a peak by the time they’re out of the taxi and taking the stairs two at a time up to their apartment. The door slams open and then closed behind them, and Iwaizumi doesn’t know if it’s locked, but for once, he doesn’t give a shit, he only cares about tearing off Oikawa’s skin-tight T-shirt and jeans, the _fucking tease_. Oikawa’s fingers are just as frenzied with his clothes, and before Iwaizumi knows it, he’s got Oikawa pinned against the wall of the genkan as they make out in only their underwear.

“Take ‘em off,” Oikawa whines between kisses, fingers catching on the band of Iwaizumi’s boxer briefs, so he quickly shoves them off and steps out of them, doing the same to Oikawa’s. Then he grabs the ass that’s been haunting him all night, nails digging into the firm, plump flesh.

 _“Mmm,”_ Oikawa hums, head falling back against the wall, arms reflexively going around Iwaizumi’s neck. His hips jump forward and their erections brush together, making them both gasp.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi groans into his ear, squeezing and fondling that delectable ass. “I’m gonna fuck you. Okay?”

“Yes, yes, _please_ , Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whimpers, dragging Iwaizumi’s face back up to his for a kiss that’s all tongue.

Iwaizumi indulges him for a moment before lifting him by the ass, and Oikawa’s lips separate from his with a pop and a gaspy _oh_.

“Iwa-chan,” he groans, guttural, legs wrapping around Iwaizumi’s waist. “So strong, god—” Iwaizumi angles his head up to connect their mouths again, and Oikawa’s fingers tangle in his hair as he kisses back like he wants to eat Iwaizumi up.

They stumble into Iwaizumi’s bedroom, then drop unceremoniously on his bed. He sits back so he can admire the sight. Oikawa’s legs fall open around Iwaizumi’s hips, his flushed cock twitching against his stomach as he whines, “C’mon, Iwa-chan, fuck me.” The moonlight is just bright enough so Iwaizumi can see that the colour of Oikawa’s erection is the same as his swollen lips. He’s never actually seen a hard dick other than his own outside of porn, but he—likes Oikawa’s.

He swallows. Oikawa’s gaze drops to his throat before trailing down his chest, his abdomen, landing on his engorged cock. Eyelids lower over blown brown eyes, and Oikawa reaches out to swipe an index finger over the precum gathering at the tip of Iwaizumi’s erection. A greedy edge to his expression, he wraps a hand around Iwaizumi, stroking gently and almost reverently, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“So thick,” he says, quiet like he didn’t mean to say it aloud. He licks his lips again, swallowing. “Iwa-chan, can I suck your cock? Please?”

Iwaizumi’s hips jerk forward of their own accord. “Fuck. Yeah. Yeah, do you want me to...?”

“No, just—stay like that—” Oikawa scrambles to his hands and knees and shuffles forward so that his face is level with Iwaizumi’s dick. He curls one hand around the base and without any warning or hesitation, slides the flat of his tongue up from Iwaizumi’s balls to his tip. Iwaizumi clenches his jaw, resting both hands on Oikawa’s head, careful not to push. Oikawa closes his eyes, licking his cock like candy, expression full of bliss.

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi grits out. Oikawa opens his mouth and wraps his lips around the head, sucking gently. “Ah, shit—” Iwaizumi’s stomach tightens, hips shaking with the effort to stay still. Oikawa sinks down further, the soft velvet of his throat closing around Iwaizumi’s cock, and he whimpers around the girth, brows drawing together in obvious pleasure. His eyes never open, he doesn’t glance up at Iwaizumi with a single sultry gaze or let out an exaggerated sound, as if all of his concentration is focused on savoring the sensation, rather than seduction. It’s something Iwaizumi wouldn’t have expected, given how much Oikawa likes to toy with people, or be fawned over for his appearance.

His mouth slides up and down Iwaizumi’s cock, cheeks hollowing and tongue writhing. The wet sucking sounds he makes are filthy but genuine, and Iwaizumi knows he’ll be jerking off to this memory for a long time yet. The worst part is how much Oikawa loves it, with his breathy little gasps and moans. Iwaizumi looks down the smooth stretch of his back, breath catching in his throat when he sees that Oikawa’s hips are twitching like he can’t control them.

The next time Oikawa mewls, Iwaizumi’s head falls back and he lets out a pained groan. “Oikawa, stop.” The other man pulls off of him reluctantly. Iwaizumi draws in a couple deep breaths before letting himself look down, and the sight of Oikawa’s lips shiny with spit, a flush high on his cheeks, a teary sheen over his eyes, makes something in Iwaizumi snap. “On your back,” he growls, tearing his gaze away so that he can reach over and rifle through his bedside drawers.

When he turns back, Oikawa’s lying there with his legs spread, dick leaking on to his stomach. The sound of his stilted panting is loud in the room, draws attention to his pink nipples, jutting out from his chest. Iwaizumi can’t help himself and pinches one of them. Adrenaline electrifies him from head to toe at the _ah_ that Oikawa lets out, his back arching.

“What, you sensitive here?” Iwaizumi smirks, rolling the nub under his thumb, watching Oikawa flinch. “Want my mouth on them?” The brunet shudders and sucks on his bottom lip, pushing his chest into Iwaizumi’s hand. “Too bad,” Iwaizumi lies, releasing his nipple to find the lube instead, promptly coating two fingers with it. Oikawa shoots him a glare that’s cute, at best, and Iwaizumi’s smirk widens. He pushes a slippery finger into Oikawa without warning, relishing the way his eyes go round and then squeeze shut, lips parting.

“Ahh, Iwa-chan—”

He thrusts in and out like that for a torturously long time, his own cock aching, but he holds back, waiting. When Oikawa whines, he inserts a second finger and quickly gets to stretching, stroking Oikawa’s silky insides. The third finger is tight but he’s methodical and relentless, waits until Oikawa’s completely relaxed again and unsuspecting, and then curls into the spot he accidentally found earlier and has been intentionally ignoring since.

Oikawa’s whole body jolts as he cries out, and Iwaizumi does it again, and again, and again, merciless. The flare of lust makes his stomach drop and his dick fill even more as he watches Oikawa squirm helplessly on his fingers, those sexy moans rising in pitch. Oikawa’s fingers are white as they wring the sheets, his erection leaking on his stomach.

“Iwa-chan, please, please—”

Iwaizumi leans down to drag the flat of his tongue over Oikawa’s nipple, his free hand pinching and twisting the other one. The fingers in Oikawa’s hole don’t stop, thrusting in leisurely, tapping at his prostate. Oikawa keens, writhing, continues to plead, but Iwaizumi doesn’t relent until both nipples are red and puffy, even more tempting than before. Oikawa pants, boneless and shaking already as Iwaizumi pulls out his fingers and wipes them on his sheets. He fits himself into the space between Oikawa’s legs, patting the sheets for the condom.

“N-No condom,” Oikawa mumbles.

Even half-blinded by the haze of arousal, Iwaizumi knows that isn’t a good idea. Oikawa scowls. “I want it raw, please, I’m clean, I wash myself thoroughly every day, we’ll do clean up later too, please—”

“Shit, fine, I get it,” Iwaizumi surrenders, pressing close. Oikawa shuts up immediately, quivering, mouth open with harsh breaths as he waits for Iwaizumi to finally push in, but Iwaizumi just smirks and rubs the tip in circles around Oikawa’s winking hole.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa wails, legs wrapping around his waist with surprising strength. “I swear, if you don’t put your dick in me right this sec— _uh!_ ”

Iwaizumi sinks in to the hilt in one smooth thrust, and he exhales through his teeth, waiting for Oikawa to loosen around him a little. When Oikawa lets out a shuddering sigh, he rolls his hips forward.

“Yessss,” Oikawa whispers. “Ah, fuck, yes, _harder_ , I can take it—”

Iwaizumi gives him what he wants, setting a brutal pace. Oikawa throws his head back, mouth open and eyes squeezed shut. The sounds of skin slapping against skin and sharp moans fill the room, the heat almost unbearable, surrounding and smoldering inside Iwaizumi. Oikawa’s hot, velvety hole squelches around his cock and it should be gross but he finds himself shamelessly turned-on. He wants to ruin Oikawa, carve his shape inside him. If Oikawa weren’t clinging to him so fiercely right now, he’d sit back and admire the way his pink, abused rim stretches tight around Iwaizumi’s cock, pulling him back in every time he withdraws.

Iwaizumi groans at the mental image and buries his face in Oikawa’s neck, licking and sucking where bruises are already blooming. His smooth, plump skin begs to be marked, and Iwaizumi complies, biting into his shoulder. Oikawa jerks and whimpers, his precum spilling between their bodies. Iwaizumi revels in the way his cries start climbing with each thrust. He isn’t even meeting Iwaizumi’s thrusts anymore, his fingers scrabbling at his back for something to hold on to. Iwaizumi relishes in the triumph of the pain, knows that he’ll have scratches the next morning and fucking loves it.

He reaches down to flick a raw, red nipple, then pinches it hard, groaning when Oikawa whines and clenches around his cock.

“Touch me,” Oikawa begs, “touch my dick, please, please—”

Iwaizumi slides a palm down his chest, toying with the other nipple, circling the pad of his thumb over it until Oikawa writhes, wailing in desperation. Then Iwaizumi slides his hand down, over his abs, before closing his fist around Oikawa’s erection and tugging. Tears stream down Oikawa’s face as he quakes at Iwaizumi’s ruthless pace, cock driving him into the mattress and hand teasing his dick. Pride swells in Iwaizumi’s chest at how _wrecked_ he looks.

“I-I’m—com— _uh_ — _ah_ —Iwa—”

“Come.” Iwaizumi smooths his thumb over the head of Oikawa’s dick, once, twice, three times. It spurts in his hand and Oikawa’s eyes roll into the back of his head, body arching. He clenches around Iwaizumi so tight the latter grunts, huffing out an unsteady breath. “That’s it,” he hisses, thrusts never slowing, his palm stroking Oikawa through his orgasm. “C’mon, baby.” Oikawa sobs, legs jerking, and his dick twitches as more white paints his chest. Iwaizumi lets go of him when he starts trembling from oversensitivity, pulling out and fisting his cock until he comes with a groan all over Oikawa’s messy hole and thighs.

He collapses beside Oikawa, sucking in much-needed breaths, waiting for his heartrate to go back to normal. Sleep weighs heavy on his body.

“Oikawa?” he mumbles when he can make his mouth work. There’s no response, and he looks over to find his best friend passed out, lips parted. Iwaizumi snorts, rubbing his clean hand over his own face. It takes a minute to convince himself to roll off the bed, but he gets up and cleans them both up with a warm, wet towel. Then he lifts Oikawa so that he can yank the covers out from beneath him and cover them both. Crawling closer, he cups Oikawa’s head to his chest, nuzzling into his hair. Darkness claims him within seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for sticking around, hope you enjoyed!!! ♥♥


	9. Days 93-112

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my LOVELIES I AM BACK WITH ANOTHER CHAPTER, I APPRECIATE YOUR PATIENCE <333

_Day 93._

Oikawa wakes with a start. There’s an unnatural warmth wrapped around him that he’s not used to, but his eyes refuse to focus. He’s disoriented for a long moment before the memories come rushing back, and then he registers that it’s Iwaizumi’s chest in his face, bare skin brushing his nose with each breath. Iwaizumi is snoring quietly into his hair, one arm thrown across Oikawa’s shoulders and the other under his head. The moonlight casts light and shadow across Iwaizumi’s features, his straight nose, dark eyelashes, pretty lips.

Oikawa watches him, unconsciously matching his breathing to Iwaizumi’s. It’s not every day he gets to stare openly at his best friend. After counting the hundredth exhale, he lets out a small sigh of his own and begins the careful process of wiggling out of Iwaizumi’s hold. There’s a reddish mark on his arm where Oikawa’s head was lying, to his embarrassment. He gently massages the spot for a minute, hoping it won’t be sore in the morning, before carefully creeping out of Iwaizumi’s bed. He allows himself to stand there and look for another fifty breaths, then pads silently back to his room.

Pulling on a clean pair of underwear, he slides under his sheets, curling in on himself. It’s nearing the end of May, but his bed is cold from the coolness of the night. Still, he lies there, too weary to dig through his drawers for clothes.

The room is silent. Oikawa wishes he had a clock or something, so that he could listen to its monotonous ticking, at least. But he hasn’t bothered to buy a clock since the one Iwaizumi gave him when they first moved in broke.

Oikawa burrows his face into his pillow.

* * *

_Day 94._

Oikawa leaves at ten the next morning. He sits in the living room with a pen and piece of paper for a long while, contemplating what kind of I’m-going-out-so-don’t-be-alarmed note he should leave Iwaizumi. He doesn’t want to come off as too brusque, but anything more affectionate than that would feel wrong. In the end, he leaves without writing the note.

Daichi and Kuroo, both early-risers, have already claimed a table at the restaurant. Oikawa’s grateful they responded so positively to a last-minute invite and insists that he pays for the meal, but is utterly ignored. Like usual. Why do all his friends have to be such good people? That just emphasizes his own assholey-ness, dammit!

“So, how was it?” Kuroo drawls in his characteristic dead-pan, but his expression is open with curiosity. Daichi accidentally drops his sushi in the soy sauce and it splashes all over his plate, but he’s busy glaring at and kicking his boyfriend under the table.

Oikawa blinks, cheeks stuffed with food. “How was what?”

“Sex with Iwaizumi.”

Daichi groans and pinches the bridge of his nose and Oikawa spits out whatever raw fish he was chewing. A piece lands on Kuroo’s face.

“Ew, Oikawa, what the hell!”

“Kuroo,” Daichi admonishes, “you can’t just ask like that, you insensitive bastard.”

“How’d you know?” Oikawa demands with mounting horror. His hands reflexively fly to his neck, but then he remembers he wore a turtleneck exactly so that none of the marks would be visible. “How’d you know?!”

“The way you sat down,” Kuroo informs him matter-of-factly. “Bet it was a good time.”

Oikawa’s face is on fire. He covers it with his hands.

“Well? You didn’t answer my question.”

“Oikawa,” Daichi says gently but sternly. “You don’t have to answer anything, just ignore the idiot.”

“I know...”

“Ha, you know you want to.”

“Kuroo, for the last tim—”

“IT WAS THE BEST SEX I’VE EVER HAD IN MY ENTIRE LIFE,” Oikawa wails, dragging his palms down his face. Several people at nearby tables shoot looks of horror at him but he can’t bring himself to care, collapsing into Daichi’s lap next to him. “Of course he has to be friggin’ amazing at sex too, what do I doooo, Dai-chaaann~~” Daichi pats him on the head like the true mom friend he is. The touch destroys Oikawa’s defenses, and like a dam’s been broken, he spills everything about the night before.

Kuroo whistles. “I wouldn’t have expected that kind of carnality from a guy like Iwaizumi. Actually, I thought he’d be the gentle, smother-you-with-his-love type, y’know?”

The words stab deep into Oikawa’s chest. Part of him thinks so, too. “Yeah. Well. It was just a spur of the moment thing. He was probably just sexually frustrated or whatever.”

“You know Iwaizumi wouldn’t use you to take off the edge,” Daichi scolds. “It’s more than that.”

Oikawa shrugs, pushing his salmon around on his plate. “I also...feel sort of guilty.”

“What? Why?”

“I dunno. I feel like he was somehow tricked into it. Like, I tricked him into this relationship. He...I mean, he still doesn’t know about my feelings.”

Daichi brushes a hand through Oikawa’s hair. “Weren’t you ecstatic the past few weeks?” he asks softly. “With the way he’s been treating you? And Iwaizumi too, it sounds like you guys have made significant progress.”

“Yeah, but the more I think about it, the more wrong it feels,” Oikawa mumbles into his thigh. “I got these things by being a fake. I didn’t earn them. It’s like I—cheated them out of Iwa-chan.”

Kuroo suddenly bursts into cackles, slamming a hand on the table. Oikawa lifts his head to stare at him, confused and a little hurt. “You’re such a fucking idiot,” Kuroo says, pointing his chopsticks in his face. “Iwaizumi’s a full-grown adult with the ability to make full-grown-adult decisions. Did you make him agree to be your boyfriend? Did you make him call you all those times when we went to Hokkaido? Did you make him kiss you or have sex with you? Sorry to burst your bubble, but I don’t think a dude who ambushes you in a dingy bar bathroom needs you to go ‘boohoo, I made him do it’ for him. Pretty fuckin’ sure that’s an outright insult of his intelligence, in fact.”

Oikawa gapes, sitting up. “But I—”

“Maybe,” Daichi cuts in firmly. “The way you went about it wasn’t the best. And that won’t change until you decide to tell him the whole truth. But there’s no point in beating yourself up over it before then. Okay?”

“Yeah, and you might as well enjoy him while you’re at it.” Kuroo picks up a piece of agedashi tofu and pops it in his mouth. “Isn’t that the point?” He waggles his eyebrows.

“That was good until the last part,” Daichi tells him.

“What, it’s true!”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You love me.”

“You wish.”

“That’s not what you were saying last ni—NO, I’m sorry, Daichi, I take it all back, put the soy sauce down, please, I beg you! Oikawa, stop zoning out and help me you useless piece of—”

Oikawa tunes them out as he mulls over Kuroo’s words. There’s logic there that he can’t deny, and no kind of reason will change how the whole situation makes him feel guilty and queasy. But the logic, at least that’s something he can agree with.

“I don’t know if I agree one-hundred percent with that,” Oikawa admits. Kuroo and Daichi pause their bickering and turn to look at him, one hopeful and the other still murderous. “But it’s a good point. I didn’t think of it that way. Not that it really makes what I’m doing any more right.”

“Yeah, but you get what I’m saying?” Kuroo asks. “It’s way too extra to, y’know, sink into some dumb martyr complex.”

Oikawa shrugs, swirling wasabi around in his soy sauce with his chopsticks. “I mean, it’s true that he was into it, I guess.”

“Duh.”

Oikawa nods. Iwaizumi isn’t stupid by any stretch of the imagination, so he probably shouldn’t be insulting Iwaizumi’s intelligence in such a way. And it’s not like they need to make heartfelt, soul-binding love or anything. Oikawa doesn’t need that. Impulsive sex is just as amazing, as proven by last night. Didn’t they both have a good time?

Daichi finally lowers the soy sauce and sinks back into his seat, to Kuroo’s obvious relief. “There’s no need to feel bad about two consenting adults having a tumble in the sheets. Hiding your feelings isn’t a crime.”

“If I find the right timing, I’ll tell him the truth,” Oikawa sighs.

“Yes, good thinking.”

“Yeah, and if you could also spare us the gritty details next time, that’d be great,” Kuroo snarks, pretending to gag. Daichi laughs sheepishly.

“I don’t think I can look at Iwaizumi the same way again, to be honest.”

“Remember the good ol’ days when Oikawa got flustered by so much as thinking about Iwaizumi’s dick? Those were the best times.”

“I COULDN’T HELP IT, OKAY, IT WAS GREAT SEX!”

 

 

 

Oikawa opens the door quietly, peering in to listen for any signs of movement. When he hears none, he tiptoes inside, silent and wary. It’s Iwaizumi’s day off and he didn’t mention going anywhere, so he should be in the house somewhere, probably.

It’s not like Oikawa doesn’t want to see him, but he can’t ignore the awkwardness he feels towards his own feelings and the whole situation, so honestly, if he can put off having to face Iwaizumi for even one second longer, he’ll take it. He might have figured out some things on his end, but that doesn’t change the unease that’s swimming in his gut.

He’s steps away from his bedroom door when a voice behind him says, “What are you doing?” Oikawa screeches and jumps a foot in the air.

He whirls around, quickly smoothing a smile over his face. “I-Iwa-chan! You scared me! God, don’t sneak up on people like that.”

Iwaizumi looks distinctly uncomfortable, standing in the doorway of the kitchen with his arms crossed, mouth twisted in a grimace. Something about it tickles at a memory from months ago. Oikawa’s cheeks ache with the effort of holding his pleasant expression.

“Where have you been?”

“Ah, I went out for brunch with Kuro-chan and Dai-chan! Sushi! Of course, I brought you back some tofu, I left it by the genkan so eat it before it gets cold~” He trails off into stilted laughter when there’s no reply.

Iwaizumi’s eyes tunnel into him.

“Um...is something the matter, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa tries. “You’re acting a little off...”

Iwaizumi averts his gaze, fixing his attention on something to the side. “Look,” he says slowly. “About yesterday.”

Oikawa’s stomach falls to his toes.

“I just...” Iwaizumi stops.

His cheeks grow pink, scowl deepening. Oikawa's heart thuds hard, the pulses resonating through his chest and up to his head.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Iwaizumi rushes out, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. He still isn’t looking at Oikawa. “I was. Kind of rough. Sorry. I wanted to be more—careful, but.” By this point, his face is flaming red, and Oikawa feels the chill in his bones melting, his own ears heating up too. “You’re walking kind of weird, so...”

“No, no!” Oikawa blurts out. “I’m fine! It’s just been a while, so I’m not, like, as used to the soreness, but it’s a good soreness! And it was good last night, really good, I would tell you if I didn’t like anything, so no need to worry! Haha!”

Iwaizumi peeks up at him through his eyelashes. “That’s good. Uh. Just...making sure.”

“Yeah! I’m totally fine, in fact, we should do it again sometime—”

He freezes. Iwaizumi stares at him.

What the shit did he just say? _We should do it again sometime_ , really? _Really?_ Who the hell even says that, now Oikawa is actually gonna have to run into traffic—

“Okay.”

Oikawa’s head snaps up. “Huh?”

“I said okay, Trashykawa.” Iwaizumi’s smiling a little, eyes soft.

“O-Oh.”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi rubs the back of his neck again, but he doesn’t look away.

“Um...okay, that’s good to hear?” Oikawa wants to throw himself off a bridge at another idiotic response, but Iwaizumi grins wide, his posture loosening.

“Yeah. But for now, wanna watch a movie? I haven’t eaten yet, I’m starving.”

“Oh!” Oikawa exclaims. “Yeah, sure—wait, Iwa-chan, it’s, like, two! Why haven’t you eaten?”

Iwaizumi looks away. “I was busy...doing some work stuff.”

“Geez, I’ll go heat up the tofu for you then,” Oikawa sighs and quickly beelines for the food he left by the genkan, trying to fan his face discreetly.

“Thanks for the tofu, moron.”

“Yes, yes.” Oikawa waves him off. “Ugh, and you’re the one who’s always ranting about eating properly, what a hypocrite.”

“Shut up.”

* * *

_Day 109._

_“And now we’re bringing you to the live, post-game interview of Harada Nobu with Iwaizumi Hajime! But before that, let’s ask Iwaizumi-san a couple questions ourselves!”_

_“Uh. Pardon?”_

Oikawa bursts out laughing at the dumbfounded look on Iwaizumi’s face and stuffs more chips into his mouth, giving himself a mental pat on the back for recording this game.

_“Iwaizumi-san, it’s big news in the industry that you recently won first place on an official NHK popularity poll for sports journalists! How does that feel for you?”_

_“Oh. It’s...great. Unexpected because I’m just doing my job, but, uh, thanks for the encouragement.”_

_“How humble of one of the most well-known faces of NHK! I’ve personally heard that your popularity extends to even the players. Harada, what do you think of this?”_

_“We all really respect Iwaizumi-san for his work. He deserves it.”_

_“Uh—wow. Thanks, Player Harada. I appreciate it.” Harada smirks and smacks him on the back. Iwaizumi smiles crookedly. “So...can I get on with interviewing him now? I’m sure he wants to go home after such a rough game.”_

_“Iwaizumi-san, you’re blushing! Are you unused to being asked the questions?”_

_“Er. Yes, a little, haha—”_

Oikawa’s phone vibrates twice against the living room table, tearing his attention away from the TV.

_Iwa-chan: hey, are you free_

_You: HI IWA CHAN i was just watching that funny interview of urs, u were so CUTE_

_Iwa-chan: fuck you_

_You: teeheehee_

_You: but yes im free~ what does iwa chan need??_

_Iwa-chan: sorry but you mind bringing me two sets of clothes? i gotta stay at the office again tonight_

Oikawa gasps and drops his bag of chips. A couple escape to the floor, but he ignores them.

_You: WHAT WHY NOOOOOOO_

_You: AGAIN??? THEYRE WORKING U TO THE BONE?????_

_Iwa-chan: yeah, well, hiiragi and honma suddenly quit so there’s nothing i can do about it_

_You: UGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH OK YA ill bring u clothes rn dw. want me to bring som efood too??_

_Iwa-chan: it’s fine, i ate already. gotta go now, see you later_

_You: okaaayyyyyy byeee_

Oikawa turns the TV off and marches to Iwaizumi’s room, throwing his closet open to gather a couple shirts, ties, and pairs of pants. They’ve all been ironed already, so the only thing he has to do is fold and slide them into a nice shopping bag. Then he changes out of his pyjamas, gathers his essentials, and grabs the keys. It’s pouring outside, so taking the car would be better, especially since he doesn’t want to get Iwaizumi’s clothes wet.

He’s excited to see his best friend. They haven’t been able to hold a decent conversation for two weeks now, and it’s like a chunk of Oikawa’s life has gone MIA.

“Look at this weather,” he whistles to himself, squinting out the window. The sky is a menacing navy-purple, wind howling and rain so heavy that his windshield wipers are turned to max speed. A few stragglers on the street have given up on their flailing umbrellas, opting instead to run through the icy downpour. The storm that the weather channel has been cautioning against must be closing in quicker than they thought.

Thankfully, Oikawa has a guest pass for the underground parking lot of Iwaizumi’s building, so he doesn’t have to brave the weather. There isn’t anyone in the lobby or at the front desk—most people have probably taken early leave to avoid the storm. Too bad Iwaizumi doesn’t have that luxury. Oikawa hopes the power doesn’t go out.

He exits the elevator quickly, humming under his breath. There are a few people on Iwaizumi’s floor still, all of them looking harried and anxious. Oikawa nods at the ones he knows, maneuvering through the hallways.

He grins as Iwaizumi’s office door comes into sight, propped open in the distance like it usually is, laughter drifting out of his room. When was the last time he took a good look at Iwaizumi’s face? In person, not on TV?

He’s two doors down when he hears an unfamiliar voice say, “Good thing most of the girls have left, imagine them walking in to see this. Oh my goooodness, Iwaizumi-san, your pecs~~” Oikawa slows to a stop, confusion and curiousity keeping him from walking in. 

“I wouldn’t have taken it off if they were still around,” Iwaizumi says, wry.

“Speaking of girls though, at least three on your floor have their eye on you, you know.”

Oikawa’s heart leaps into his throat. Iwaizumi’s chair creaks. “Pretty sure you’re imagining it.”

“No, I swear to god! I’ve got sources, I can tell you exactly who I’m talking about.”

“Shut up, I don’t want to know, you fuckin’ gossip. I’d never date anyone from my workplace, anyway.”

“Ugh. That’s something only hot guys can afford to say. Y’all piss me off, leave some for the rest of us plebeians.”

“Not my fault your thirst drives them all away.”

“That is not true! I just want a pretty girl to make me bento and wait for me at home after work and visit me when I have overtime, dammit. Ah, and the whole ‘would you like dinner? Or a bath? Or me?’ thing, god, I would literally kill myself for that. I mean. Not myself. Someone else.”

Iwaizumi chuckles. “You’re just a pervert. And it sounds more to me like you want a servant, not a girlfriend.”

“Hey, I resent that! I’m looking for true love here, you know?! Someone adorable who I can spoil, and who loves me just as much as I love her—”

“You’re not gonna start crying on me, are you.”

“Iwaizumi, bro! Where’s the empathy? I want some romance in my life, is that so bad...” the voices fade as Oikawa backs away to the opening of the hallway. The conversation itself wasn’t a big deal, but something about it makes cold sweat bead on his palms. He wipes it on his jeans.

This time, he starts stomping his way down the hall as loudly as he can, throwing in a cough or two for good measure. He knocks on the edge of Iwaizumi’s open door before peeking in to see a guy with bright blond hair sitting in the armchair across Iwaizumi, who’s got his arms crossed over his bare chest and amusement easing his features. “Hello, Iwa-cha—why aren’t you wearing a shirt, you gorilla! Oh, and hello, Iwa-chan’s friend.”

“Ah, this is Kaminari. Kaminari, Oikawa.” Iwaizumi gestures for Oikawa to take a seat in the empty chair beside Kaminari, who’s busy gawking at him.

“You’re—you’re the housemate?” he points a dramatic finger at Oikawa. “The first-string setter of the National Team is your childhood friend?”

Iwaizumi smirks. “That’s what I said. You’re the one that wouldn’t believe me.”

“Who would, what the hell!”

“Yes, that is me~” Oikawa shakes his hand. “And Kaminari-san is...?”

“I’m from the marketing department. We don’t get to interact with the big-shot sports journalists much,” he shoots a glare at Iwaizumi, “so I was just catching up with my old pal here.”

“We had a few classes together in university,” Iwaizumi explains. “Now get outta here, asshole, don’t you have work to do?”

“Fine, fine, kick me out, why don’t you,” Kaminari pouts, getting up and slinking away. “Let’s go for drinks when we’re not swamped, man.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Iwaizumi waves him off. Oikawa nods politely as a goodbye, then turns back to him, raising an eyebrow.

“Soooo...you still haven’t told me why you’re naked, Iwa-chan. At the company, much less! How scandalous!”

“Shut it,” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, and it’s not until he stands up that Oikawa notices his hair and pants are wet. “I got caught up in the rain. My umbrella broke.”

“Oh, so that’s why you got me to bring you two sets of clothes!”

“Yeah. Thanks, by the way.”

“No problem. Wait, Iwa-chan, don’t just start stripping here!” Oikawa sputters, spinning around in his chair, the tips of his ears hot.

“Like hell I’m going all the way to the bathroom, I’m freezing my ass off.” The shopping bag that Oikawa brought is snatched from him, and he waits for the rustling of clothing to stop before turning back around.

“Geez,” he complains. “What a barbarian.”

Iwaizumi’s typing already, fingers flying over the keyboard. “Uh huh.” Oikawa frowns at the dark circles under his eyes.

“You need to sleep, Iwa-chan.”

“No time. Kaminari just now was my break. Ah, fuck, I forgot to get coffee.”

“I brought a thermos of Americano, it’s in the bag.”

“Seriously?” Iwaizumi rummages through it and the triumphant look on his face when he pulls it out is much too cute. He comes back to life a little with a sip, smiling gratefully at Oikawa. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

“You owe me, like, ten.” Oikawa stands. “Well, I should let you work then.”

“Already? You just...oh, it’s eleven already. What the fuck.” Iwaizumi pushes away from his desk and massages his temples in slow circles. Oikawa can’t resist, reaching down to ruffle his damp, spiky hair. Iwaizumi peers up at him with an indecipherable look, before his hand closes around Oikawa’s wrist. He glances behind the brunet, then tugs his arm. Oikawa follows, stepping around the desk, and then Iwaizumi yanks him so that he falls forward into the other man’s lap.

“I-Iwa-chan!” Oikawa gasps, breath catching in his chest. He twists around to check the door.

“It’s closed,” Iwaizumi whispers, burrowing his face in Oikawa’s neck. “No one’s gonna come.”

“But—”

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” Iwaizumi breathes on to his skin. “Stay still.”

Oikawa swallows the lump that rises in his throat, surrendering to the exhaustion in Iwaizumi’s voice, and hugs him to his chest. “You haven’t. You’ve been at work all day every day these past two weeks.” _Not since we accidentally had sex_ , he doesn’t say.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for, silly. You have a week off after your deadline, right? Let’s go somewhere nice.”

Iwaizumi groans and nuzzles into his shoulder. “Shit, yeah. How about an onsen?”

“Mmm, yesss, great idea.”

“We can start planning as soon as I’m done with this bullshit.”

“’Kay.”

They sit there in silence for a comforting moment, before Iwaizumi casually comments, “Your heart is beating really fast.”

Oikawa tries to jump away, but Iwaizumi’s hold on his waist is iron. “Shut up! This is just because I’m afraid we’ll get caught!”

A smirk pulls at the corner of Iwaizumi’s mouth, his eyes lidding. “What? You imagining something naughty?”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa hisses as loudly as he dares, shoving at his face. “Why’re you like this!”

Iwaizumi grabs both of his wrists, pinning them to his side, and leans in close. “Since you’re already going outta your way to worry, let’s do something to make it worth your while, yeah?”

Oikawa gasps when Iwaizumi kisses him, his eyes automatically squeezing shut. Iwaizumi’s lips are soft but insistent, slick tongue swiping immediately into Oikawa’s mouth to trace over the back of his teeth. Oikawa shivers and kisses back with all of the loneliness and anxiety that’s been plaguing him, hands fisting at his sides. When he struggles, Iwaizumi lets go of his wrists, and Oikawa brings his palms up to touch the other’s cheeks and his stubbly chin.

 _I love you,_ Oikawa thinks fiercely.

As if he hears the words, Iwaizumi jerks him closer so that they’re pressed together, Oikawa’s thighs tight around his waist. One hand strokes the back of Oikawa’s neck, making him twitch, tongue slipping against Iwaizumi’s.

Iwaizumi separates from him with a lick over Oikawa’s bottom lip, his eyes hazy and warm. He presses his forehead to Oikawa’s, who gazes at him, breaths shaky.

“You should go,” Iwaizumi murmurs. Oikawa pouts, but he just laughs. “It’s late. I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.”

“Fiiiine.”

Iwaizumi grins and kisses him one last time before releasing him. “Get home safe. Drive carefully.”

“I know,” Oikawa sighs, clambering off of his lap.

“Text me when you arrive.”

“I got it, mommy-Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi pinches his cheek and Oikawa swats half-heartedly at him. He straightens his clothes, pulls on his shiniest smile, and backs away towards the door.

“Bye,” Iwaizumi says.

“...Bye...”

“Stop looking so sad, idiot.”

Oikawa pouts harder to make a point and wiggles his fingers in a wave. “Nobody looking sad here.”

“I mean it. I’m gonna go over there and smack it off of you.”

“Hmph, I’d like to see you try.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“...If I say yes, will you come over here?”

“You’re such trash.”

“WOW, RUDE!”

* * *

_Day 112._

Oikawa sees Iwaizumi off with a peck at the door, then rolls his sleeves up and gets to work. It’s been three days since he went to make his delivery at NHK, and with four new hires, Oikawa predicts this period of hell will be coming to an end soon enough. Iwaizumi has even assured him that he’ll be home for dinner tonight, so Oikawa’s determined to make the apartment clean and beautiful, and dinner as extravagant and catered to Iwaizumi’s preferences as possible. It hasn’t been Oikawa’s turn to clean for weeks now, but with the difference in their schedules, he doesn’t mind a bit. Though making a really nice dinner will be lots of pressure since he’s not as good a chef as Iwaizumi, even if Oikawa ends up with meal duty more often since he’s got more free time. But he knows Iwaizumi won’t feel like going out to eat, and it’s Oikawa’s mission to do whatever the heck Iwaizumi wants today.

Because it’s not just any day. It’s Iwaizumi’s birthday.

He doubts his best friend even remembers, but that’s what will make the surprise even better. The shoes he bought Iwaizumi months ago have stayed hidden in his closet, at first because he couldn’t find the right timing, then afterwards because life got in the way. Now, he has the perfect opportunity to give it to Iwaizumi, and he’s so excited he could scream.

Oikawa already did a practice run of the entire meal at Daichi and Kuroo’s a couple days ago, so it’s not too difficult to recreate it all, especially with his page of notes. Everything’s lain out on the dining table by six-thirty, and Oikawa sits in his usual spot, tapping his fingers restlessly, phone in the other hand as he texts Iwaizumi.

He doesn’t get a reply, but five minutes later, a call comes in.

“Iwa-chan!” he cries. “Where are you now? Dinner’s ready and getting cold~”

 _“Oikawa,”_ Iwaizumi says, and Oikawa knows instantly by the tone that something’s not right. _“Sorry. I’m gonna be home late.”_

Oikawa’s smile slides off his face. “Why?”

_“Someone got sick. I have to cover for him. I’m sorry.”_

Oikawa wants to tell him it’s okay, that he doesn’t have to sound like that, it’s no big deal. But it is kind of a big deal. Why can’t Iwaizumi get a break even on his birthday? “No one else can do it?”

_“No.”_

“Okay. And what time will you be back?”

_“I’ll try to wrap things up as soon as possible. Maybe nine? Ten, at the latest.”_

“But you have the day off tomorrow?”

_“Yeah.”_

“Okay.”

_“I’ll see you soon.”_

“Yeah.”

Oikawa puts his phone down and sighs. Then he gets up and places a food cover over everything, before trailing over to the couch and turning on the TV. He’s not that hungry, anyway. Iwaizumi probably won’t want a full meal when he’s back, but they can eat a little together. At least they’ll have a whole day with each other tomorrow, so that they can finally relax and just chat over breakfast food or something. Contentedness warms Oikawa’s chest at the thought. He could make pancakes.

The hours drag by, and at some point, he dozes off to the sound of Soo Yeon and Woo Bin arguing. When he wakes, it’s to the front door clicking open, and Oikawa immediately snaps awake, kicking off his fuzzy alien blanket and sprinting for the genkan. Iwaizumi’s tugging at his tie and dropping his briefcase on the floor, sallow face lightening when he catches sight of Oikawa.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Oikawa blurts. “I made your favourites, if you’re hungry!”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widen and stops in place with one shoe half-hanging off his foot. “Oh, shit,” he says. “I forgot.”

“I figured,” Oikawa laughs. “I tried my hand at baking a cake, too, but I’m not sure if you’re feeling up to it or whatever.”

“Oikawa...” Iwaizumi’s expression falls. “Sorry, you did so much and I—”

“Iwa-chan! Nothing to be sorry for. It’s not your fault that idiot got sick.”

Iwaizumi runs a hand through his hair. “I guess.”

“Mm-hm.”

“But I am pretty damn hungry, so let me go heat up the food.”

“Nonsense, you go wash up! And I’ll eat with you, I’ve kinda gotten hungry too.”

“Okay. And then cake. But, before that.” Iwaizumi smiles and holds his arms out. Oikawa leaps into them, grabbing on tight around his middle and Iwaizumi barks out a laugh, squeezing back so hard Oikawa wheezes a little. “Ah,” he breathes. “I feel better now.”

“How was work today?” Oikawa mumbles into his shoulder.

“Fine. Just tedious.”

“Gotta rest well tomorrow, then. I saved the last episode of Soo Yeon and Woo Bin so that we can watch them together.”

Iwaizumi groans. “Why do I have to watch that shit with you?”

“Oh, shut up, Iwa-chan, I know you love them.”

“Load of bull.”

“Tsundere Iwa-chan.”

“I’m not a tsundere, shut the fuck up.”

“You tsun-tsun. Mister McGrumpy the Porcupine. Your superhero name would be Cactus-man.”

“You’re the fucking worst.”

“No need to be mad just ‘cause you know I’m right. Now hurry up and go take your bath, Iwa-chan, you smell like smoke again!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

 

 

The food’s fresh and hot by the time Iwaizumi returns. Oikawa feels his belly fill watching his housemate shovel food in his mouth with a blissful look on his face. They even bring out the cake, and Oikawa insists on singing Happy Birthday loudly and off-key the way he does every year, and then he forces Iwaizumi to make his three wishes.

“First, health for my loved ones,” Iwaizumi says predictably, obliging Oikawa by holding his hands up, palms pressed together. “Second. Uh...more ramen shops open nearby.”

“There are already, like, two billion,” Oikawa deadpans.

“You can never have enough ramen.”

“Oh my god. Okay, fine, and your third? The secret one.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Iwaizumi closes his eyes and purses his lips, eyebrows scrunched together. Oikawa snickers. “Done. I’m gonna blow the candles now.”

“Do it, Iwa-chan, get them all in one manly breath.”

To Oikawa’s embarrassed delight, Iwaizumi loves the cake. He devours a piece and a half, then sits back against the couch and groans, rubbing his stomach.

“I’m dead.”

“We’re not done yet,” Oikawa tells his.

Iwaizumi shoots him a horrified look. “You made more food?!”

“Not that, silly!”

Oikawa takes the opportunity to scramble up and grab the present from his room. He walks back to Iwaizumi with it hidden behind his back. “Guess what it is.”

“Oh, I forgot about the present.” Iwaizumi scratches his head. “I don’t know. You know I suck at guessing.”

“Just try,” Oikawa insists, holding out the wrapped box. “Here, you can look. But no touching.”

“Kneepads?” Iwaizumi guesses.

“Nope!”

“Lame pyjamas?”

“Wow, rude! I would not buy lame pyjamas, I would buy awesome pyjamas!”

“Yeah, that’s what I meant,” Iwaizumi says dryly. “‘Awesome’ pyjamas.”

Oikawa sniffs. “Too bad, you’re wrong.”

“Some other type of clothing?”

“Nope!”

Iwaizumi crosses his arms. “I give up.”

“Ugh, fine! Iwa-chan is so boring,” Oikawa laments, trying to keep his excitement from showing, and shoves the box at him. Iwaizumi starts tearing at the wrapping paper like a beast, flinging it everywhere, pieces floating down like confetti. His eyes widen when he spots the brand on the box. His head snaps up and he gapes at Oikawa. “Open it,” Oikawa says smugly.

Iwaizumi takes a deep breath, then carefully lifts the lid of the shoebox. He inhales audibly.

“Oikawa.”

“Go on, tell me I’m the best friend to ever exist and I deserve all the good things in the world,” Oikawa says haughtily, crossing his arms and turning up his nose.

“How much did these cost?” Iwaizumi mutters, brushing reverent fingertips over them.

“That’s a secret.”

Iwaizumi puts the box down and glares at him. “You spent too much.”

“Your birthday’s only once a year, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa shrugs. “And I got a discount. Don’t worry about it, you know I wouldn’t go over my budget or anything.”

Iwaizumi eyes him for another moment, suspicious. “You sure?”

“Yes!” Oikawa groans, throwing his hands in the air. “You can ask the lady at the store, she remembers me!”

“Fine, all right.” Iwaizumi looks back down at the shoes, lips pressed into a line. “Thanks, Trashykawa. You didn’t have to.”

“I know that, dummy. You’re welcome.”

Iwaizumi grins, warm and wide, and Oikawa crawls over to give him a hug. “Happy birthday, Iwa-chan.”

“Older by another year.”

“Ew, what a grandpa.”

“You’re literally one month younger than me.”

“Still a grandpa.”

“Shut it, moron.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for the kind and thoughtful reviews last chapter. i read every single one and appreciated the fuck outta em. (i have to admit that some had me on the verge of tears because i am weak like that shut up) unfortunately i didn't have the time to reply, esp since i wanted to concentrate all my free time on actually writing the damn chapters, but i hope you know that every single comment brightened my day. thank you again. :D


	10. Days 116-128

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLOOOOOOO WELCOME BAAAAAAACK
> 
> hope you enjoy!!

_Day 116._

It takes until Iwaizumi gets hit by a fever before NHK lets him take a prolonged break. His bosses send him apologetic emails and give him the entire rest of the month off, promising to get the trainees on track before he’s back. Upon learning this information, Oikawa whoops with delight and immediately sprints off to buy tickets for a traditional onsen inn.

Now, rain pitter-patters against the window, comforting to his pounding head, giving him something to focus on instead of the achy lethargy weighing down his body. He feels like he's dreaming, like his brain is mashed potatoes. Maybe it really is. A flash blinds him for a millisecond, followed by the rumble of what sounds like a titanic beast raging in the clouds. Or maybe stomping on the ground. Like Godzilla. Yeah. That sounds about right. Iwaizumi grins.

“Ew, Iwa-chan, what’re you smiling like a creep for?” Oikawa says from his seat beside Iwaizumi’s bed.

“Haha. Godzilla.”

Oikawa wrinkles his nose. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’t wanna know. What a fanboy.” Iwaizumi ignores him, blinking slowly. “Y’know, I don’t think we’ve had a storm like this in ages!” Oikawa chirps. “It’s kinda refreshing, huh?”

Iwazumi hums almost silently, his voice a croak. Oikawa frowns down at him and brushes his damp hair from his face. “Man, Iwa-chan, you never get sick, but when you do it’s, like, zombie-level bad.”

“Go ‘way,” Iwaizumi slurs. “Watch TV or somethin’. You’re gonna get sick.”

“No thanks, I’m not as weak as you. Besides, this is a good chance for me to finally start reading this book. Do you remember it? The one I bought two years ago and never started ‘cause I got distracted by life?” Iwaizumi grunts, sure that he would remember if his head didn’t feel like it was about to crack open. “Well, Makki said it was good, so I’m gonna finish it and prove him wrong. Or gush about it with him. Whichever works.” Oikawa continues to talk, but the sound of his voice gradually fades as sleep drags Iwaizumi under. His last thought is vague amusement at the irony of Oikawa rambling about starting a book and not actually reading it because he’s too busy talking.

 

 

 

Iwaizumi hazily recalls waking a couple more times throughout the day, but the next time he’s fully conscious, the lights are off except for the bedside lamp, and Oikawa isn’t in the chair anymore. He groans and twists around to check the time: seven in the evening. His head is a lot clearer now, and he’s not feeling as hot. When he pushes himself up to sit, three damp towels fall from his face. He smirks. Leave it to Oikawa to be extra.

“Iwa-chan, good timing!” Oikawa appears in the doorway cupping a bowl of porridge. “I was about to wake you up. You should get some food in your stomach.”

Iwaizumi stares at his neon pink alien pyjamas and bed hair. “Have you...just been taking care of me all day?” he asks. “Sorry, it’s your day off and everything.”

Oikawa sets the bowl down hard on the bedside table. “What dumb things are you spewing, silly!” He points a spoon right between Iwaizumi’s eyes. “Sick people should just concentrate on getting better, ‘kay?”

Iwaizumi rubs his temples. “You’ve been doing all the cooking and cleaning lately too, so I feel bad. It’s not like you’re my maid. Or some eighteenth-century wife.”

There’s no reply, so Iwaizumi looks up, only to be met with the sight of Oikawa’s red cheeks and pursed lips. Iwaizumi blinks, unsure what caused the strange reaction.

Oikawa clears his throat. “So, uh, I wrote your article for you.” He waggles his eyebrows.

For a second, Iwaizumi thinks he’s misheard. “What.”

Oikawa grabs Iwaizumi’s laptop from under his chair and flips it open with flourish, then shoves it so close to Iwaizumi’s face he goes cross-eyed. “The article you were working on before the fever knocked you out. I thought it was missing a li’l _spice_ , so I added some! You’re welcome~”

Iwaizumi pushes the screen farther from his face, squinting. _Nishida THE ASSHOLE batter_ , the title reads, in size seventy-two font. _Likes to have bisexual orgies but vehemently denies his gayness CAN HE GET ANY MORE CLICHE????????? HAHA_

Which is then followed by four paragraphs describing in excruciating detail how much Nishida loves sucking dick and why this is an insult to gays all over the world and “probably on Mars too cuz hello there used to be water on that GORGEOUS red planet so someone there mustve been gay.”

Iwaizumi chokes on his spit.

Oikawa leans back in his seat, arms crossed at his chest. His eyes are tiny slits of smugness.

“Did you—did you delete what I had before?” Iwaizumi demands.

“I saved that to another doc, silly.” Oikawa waves him off. “Personally, I thought it was way too boring, so I wrote another version. _This_ is the type of stuff that’ll sell, Iwa-chan, geez.”

“Yeah, and get me fired.”

“It was too objective! You have to let the people know the truth!” Oikawa gasps and springs to his feet. “What if I started a blog about this?”

Iwaizumi cringes. “A blog on how gay Nishida is?”

“No! On the dark side of the sports world!” Oikawa clasps his hands together, eyes shining. “You’re exposed! And you’re exposed! You’re all exposed!”

Iwaizumi groans, sliding further down the bed, pulling the covers up over his nose. “You need to stop watching those YouTube drama channels.”

“Don’t tell me how to live my life, Iwa-chan.”

“Why can’t you just take care of the sick like normal people do? You know, make sure the towel on my forehead stays cool, cook some porridge, be _quiet_ and let the patient get some _rest_.”

Oikawa's eyes narrow. “Are you implying something, Iwa-chan?”

“Yeah. I am.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to brighten up your boring, old-person life! Fine, I’ll just sit here and read my book! Hmph!” He plops back on to his chair, fumbling for said book.

“Which you haven’t started.”

Oikawa's head snaps up. “...How did you know that?!”

Iwaizumi laughs, but it quickly turns into a cough. Oikawa shoots forward and slaps his hand on Iwaizumi’s forehead, his face scrunching up. The coughing lets up soon, but Oikawa doesn't take away his hand. “Y’know...”

“What now,” Iwaizumi says.

“I’m gonna be honest here. I’ve never understood why people put their hands on other people’s foreheads to check if they have a fever ‘cause I can’t tell. At all.” Oikawa puts his other hand on his own forehead.

Iwaizumi sighs. “It’s a trope.”

“Duh, but isn’t there some deeper meaning to it?” He sits back and rubs his chin. “Like, what if there’s some sort of important historical connotation we’re not aware of?! We’d just be—sheep! Mindless followers who don’t understand the reasoning behind their own actions! Like zombies! Like—”

“I swear to god, if you don’t shut the fuck up, I will hit you.”

Oikawa opens his eyes obnoxiously wide and mimes zipping his mouth shut. It lasts for about two seconds. “Iwa-chan, you should really eat. You’ve been lying here like a useless noodle for two days.”

Iwaizumi groans, taking the bowl of porridge when Oikawa hands it to him. “Just a little.”

Oikawa nods and sits back, watching him eat with satisfaction. Shockingly, he doesn’t say a word.

“Why’re you clamming up now?” Iwaizumi asks through a mouthful of food.

Oikawa shrugs. “Nothing. I was thinking that it’s nice you’re up and actually, like, alive this time.” Only now does he let the worry show as he exhales and runs a jerky hand through his hair. Affection and gratitude well in Iwaizumi's stomach, and he pinches Oikawa's cheek.

“Thanks for taking care of me, Trashykawa.”

Oikawa beams, looking for all the world like a golden retriever with a bone. “You’re welcome, Iwa-chan.”

* * *

_Day 128._

His cold resolves itself within days, just in time for their trip.

Iwaizumi isn’t surprised that the first thing Oikawa does when they arrive at their quarters is fly to the shoji doors on the opposite end of the room and fling them open. A small room is revealed, along with a traditional low table and cushions for seats, the far wall replaced by floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over a zen garden. As the sun sets, shadows of the still-green Japanese maples are cast over the swirling designs raked in the rocks. Azaleas and hydrangeas bloom among meticulously groomed bushes, pops of colour in the calming sea of green and grey. To the right, steam rises over the bamboo fence encircling the hot springs.

“Wow,” Oikawa breathes. “It’s so beautiful.”

Iwaizumi drops his bags and joins him by the windows. “Yeah.”

“When was the last time we even came to an onsen? It sure feels like it’s been forever!”

“I think in university? That one winter you, me, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki were all miraculously able to return to Miyagi for New Years.”

“Ohh, right.”

They enjoy the scenery for a moment in silence, before Oikawa sighs and flops on the floor. Iwaizumi takes that as his cue to start unpacking. “So what do you want to do first?”

“Mmm, I’m kinda hungry. Dinner and then baths? Oh! And the ping pong tables we passed by downstairs, I wanna try those!”

“Fine, but help me set up the futons first, you damn sloth.”

“Ughhhh, I don’t wannaaaaa,” Oikawa whines, rolling across the tatami to knock against Iwaizumi’s feet. “Iwa-chan, do it for meeee.”

“No.”

“Buuuttt it’s too hottttt.”

“It’s twenty degrees. A whole fifteen degrees cooler than Tokyo, idiot.”

“Aren’t you glad I chose an onsen in Hokkaido?” Oikawa preens. “Imagine going to one from any other part of Japan. We’d boil ourselves alive. Make ourselves all tasty for the onsen monkeys!”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and chucks a towel at Oikawa’s face, who splutters indignantly. “Monkeys don’t eat people.”

“Iwa-chan, have you never seen Planet of the Apes?”

“Those were apes, not monkeys. And they were wronged, all right, it’s not like they killed humans for fu—”

“That’s not the point, you gorilla!”

Iwaizumi kicks Oikawa’s leg. “Seriously, I’m not helping you unpack tonight when you’re full and sleepy and too lazy to find your face masks or whatever yourself.”

“Boooo, but we just got here~” Oikawa wraps himself around Iwaizumi’s leg and buries his face in a denim-covered knee. “Let’s relax a little first, okay?”

Iwaizumi stares down at him flatly. “Relax how, exactly.”

Oikawa pats the tatami beside him and pulls out his best puppy-dog eyes. “We can lie on the floor together for a while! And chat! I’m only asking for ten—no, fifteen minutes! C’mon, Iwa-chan~~”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but unfortunately, his immunity to Oikawa’s stupid puppy eyes has diminished somewhat over the years, so he gives in and lies down. Oikawa scoots so close Iwaizumi can see the roundness of his eyes in his peripheral vision. He braces himself for the incoming idiocy.

“So,” the brunet whispers conspiratorially, “any gossip?”

 

 

 

Their travel package includes dinner, which turns out to be an entire table of elaborately plated seafood, starring a whole, humongous crab that Iwaizumi doesn’t know the name of. It’s delicious and juicy and complemented perfectly by the side dishes. They eat so much that they both sit there groaning afterwards, holding their stomachs.

“Iwa-chan, I’m gonna die,” Oikawa whines. “Do you think going to the onsen will help us digest because if not I’m gonna change careers and become a volleyball now.”

“Don’t ask me,” Iwaizumi wheezes. “Worth a shot though.”

Oikawa complains the whole way, but they somehow manage to waddle downstairs and outside through a small garden path to the baths. Iwaizumi flings his clothes into a basket and briefly rinses himself off in the shower, then makes a beeline for the springs. Evenings in Hokkaido are chilly even in June, and he sinks eagerly into the steaming water, barely able to hold in a satisfied moan. He wades over to the unclaimed farther end, loving the lack of people, and leans against the rocky edge with a sigh.

The sky has gone almost completely dark by now, the moon big and bright overhead. If Iwaizumi squints, he thinks he can maybe identify some of the stars and constellations, the ones Oikawa forced him to learn back in high school. Like Orion, or some shit.

Oikawa eventually toddles over, towel held modestly over his crotch. The way he walks makes Iwaizumi snort. “What are you, a pregnant lady?”

“Oh, shut up, Iwa-chan, it’s not like you were any better.” He dips a toe into the water, hisses, then tries again, slowly submerging the rest of his leg.

“Princess,” Iwaizumi huffs.

“It’s hot, okay, my skin needs to adjust or I’ll become all old and wrinkly like you!”

“Uh huh.”

A millennium later, Oikawa is finally sitting beside him, eyes closed in a blissful smile. “We haven’t heard the sound of crickets in forever, have we!”

“Not in Tokyo,” Iwaizumi agrees.

“It’s nice. Even though bugs are icky.”

“Princess,” he repeats.

“Uh, rude! Just ‘cause I don’t like creepy crawlies that have two thousand legs doesn’t mean I’m high-maintenance or whatever.”

“...”

“...Okay, so I am high-maintenance, but not because I think bugs are gross! There is no correlation! Whatsoever!”

“Sure.”

Oikawa pouts, drawing shapes in the water with his index finger. “Why’re you always so mean to me, Iwa-chan.”

“You deserve it.”

“I do not!”

Oikawa twists away petulantly and doesn’t say anything for a few minutes. Iwaizumi turns his attention away from the sky to peek at him, wondering if he’s actually mad or only being his normal drama-queen self. Something about the way the moon reflects on the water, which reflects into Oikawa’s eyes, makes Iwaizumi suddenly hyper-aware that the two of them are essentially alone, sitting close together, and very naked. And Oikawa is still being all pouty.

Iwaizumi bites the inside of his lip. In the span of a second, he wraps an arm around Oikawa’s waist, drags him close, and kisses him on the cheek. Just as quickly, he lets him go.

Oikawa’s hand shoots up to his face, jaw dropped open as he stares at Iwaizumi. Indignation and pleasure war on his face for a moment, and then he snaps his mouth closed, lips pressed into a wavering line. He looks like he’s deciding whether he should continue to sulk or not, but the way his face goes red betrays him. “We’re in public, Iwa-chan!” he cries, but his mouth curves into a tiny, sweet smile, and Iwaizumi has to clench his fists to keep from reaching for him.

Out of nowhere, he realizes that this is the first time he’s ever done anything explicitly non-platonic with Oikawa outside of the comfort of their home, besides that time in the bar. But that make-out session was more spur of the moment, and lust, and not like now, where he wants to—coddle Oikawa. Romance him and other gross things like that.

On second thought, they’ve held hands in public before too. But Iwaizumi thinks back to how he felt then, and knows this is different.

Oikawa’s fidgeting now, gaze drifting away, pointedly not looking at Iwaizumi. But he’s openly grinning, and it looks hilarious coupled with the towel folded on his head.

“Wow,” Iwaizumi breathes. It gets funnier the more he looks. He lets out a laugh. “You’re an idiot.”

Oikawa’s jaw drops again and he whirls around, expression immediately exploding into offense. “UH, EXCUSE ME?”

“I’m an idiot too.”

“Huh???”

“Nothing.” Iwaizumi whips his towel at him.

“Ow! What the heck—ow, STOP, IWA-CHAN!”

 

 

 

They’re halfway through unpacking their toiletries when Oikawa gasps, dropping ten different bottles of his skincare stuff all over the counter. “We haven’t played ping pong yet!”

Iwaizumi looks up from his duffle bag. “Oh, I forgot.”

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Oikawa pulls his yukata tighter around himself, tying it securely.

“You wanna go now?” Iwaizumi checks the clock. “We could play tomorrow, we’re here for three days.”

“Yeah, but why not now! It’s not like we could sleep at eleven anyway,” Oikawa points out, already standing by the door. “And if we get all sweaty and everything we could hit the baths again.”

Iwaizumi shrugs. “Okay.”

“Man, ping pong is also something I haven’t done in forever,” Oikawa chatters as they head downstairs again. “Do you remember that tournament we had with Makki and Mattsun last time we came to an onsen?”

Iwaizumi barks out a laugh at that. “You mean when we ended up compensating the place for the ten ping pong balls we accidentally flattened?”

“That was all you and Makki!” Oikawa gripes, elbowing him in the side. “You know how he gets all competitive with you so you shouldn’t have hit the balls so hard!”

“Hey, if he’s gonna come at me, I’m gonna give back as good as I get.”

“Ugh, you guys are, like, swimming in too much testosterone.” Oikawa fans himself. “That’s probably bad for your heart.”

“Well, you’ll get diabetes from eating so much sweet shit.”

“Iwa-chan, are you cursing me!”

Iwaizumi scoffs. “No, but I’m gonna fucking tell your coach if you don’t cut it out.”

“Traitor!”

“It’s for your own health.”

“Hmph, whatever.”

They walk in silence for a bit, but Iwaizumi can practically hear the gears turning in Oikawa’s head. He counts down from ten.

“Say, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, right as Iwaizumi hits zero. He gives a subtle fist pump. “Huh?”

“Don't mind me.”

Oikawa gives him a dirty look.

“What, spit it out already, Dumbkawa.”

“Well...” Oikawa drags out the word. “I was just wondering. What would you do if I died before you?”

Iwaizumi scowls and punches him in the shoulder. “Kill you.”

“Okay, but see, I'm dead already, please listen to the question.”

“Kill you harder.”

Oikawa snorts. “As expected of the gorilla. No, but seriously.”

“I don’t know.” Iwaizumi tries to imagine life without Oikawa, and strangely, it comes to him easily. “Live on, I guess. Remember you sometimes. Talk shit about you with Hanamaki and Matsukawa, the usual. What else can I do?”

Oikawa taps his chin thoughtfully. “Hmmmm, I see. Very practical.”

“What would you do if I died first?” Iwaizumi asks, curious.

“Probably cry forever,” Oikawa answers without hesitation, and even though it’s an exaggeration, Iwaizumi’s chest twinges.

“Well, don’t.”

“Just kidding!” Oikawa exclaims, slapping him on the arm. “I’d cry for ten minutes and then start looking for a screeching child at the park to sacrifice to Satan and bring you back. Or lie naked in a cornfield waiting for aliens to abduct me, who will have far superior technology and will therefore be able to bring you back. Actually, yeah! That sounds like a really good plan.” Oikawa pats himself on the back. “Good going, me.”

“Bad going, you,” Iwaizumi deadpans. “Your brilliant plan is to lie naked in a field with my dead body, indefinitely.”

“I mean, I could also hire Elon Musk to make me a Bat-Signal or something to hurry up and summon the aliens, if that makes you feel better.”

Iwaizumi pauses. He has a reply to that, but he’s not sure whether to say it, since Oikawa could begin to spiral into a Whirlpool of Overthinking™. But he should, just in case Iwaizumi really does die early and regrets never telling Oikawa so. “Or, you could move on. Like a normal human being.”

To his surprise, Oikawa just grins smugly. “Sorry, but I’m not a giver-upper, unlike someone else here,” he jokes. “I can master anything, even black magic.”

“Giver-upper’s not a word.”

Oikawa harrumphs, crosses his arms, and pretends to ignore him. Iwaizumi lets himself smile. The fact that Oikawa has been extra cheerful this whole trip hasn’t escaped his notice, and it makes warmth curl in his belly.

“Bet you can’t beat me at ping pong,” he baits. Oikawa whips around and glares at him, his forehead wrinkling like a prune, eyes hard as diamonds. Pretty, Iwaizumi thinks.

“You’re on.”

“What are we betting?” Iwaizumi asks.

“Whoever loses has to set up the bedding for the next three days.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

“I’ll rent the gear then. You go pick a table.”

“Iwa-chan’s not the boss of me,” Oikawa reminds him, but stomps away towards the tables obediently. Iwaizumi has to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

There’s a bit of a line-up at the rental counter, so it takes Iwaizumi much longer than he was expecting to actually get the balls and paddles. He jogs back towards the tables, hoping Oikawa didn’t get impatient or distracted by something stupid and run off.

Thankfully, he spots a familiar mop of brown hair in the distance, and it looks like he’s talking to someone. Excitedly, too. Iwaizumi doesn’t recognize the tall, dark-haired man. He's handsome in a conventional, almost graceful way. 

“Hey, sorry that took so long,” he says as he reaches them, and Oikawa faces him with a giddy grin.

“Iwa-chan! Look who I found here of all places! Yama-chan, say hi, this is my best friend.”

“Yamazaki,” the other man clarifies.

Iwaizumi gives his name in return, and they shake hands. It takes him a second before he registers where he’s heard of ‘Yamazaki’. “Are you the cream puff guy?”

Yamazaki’s face bursts into colour, and he glowers at Oikawa, who holds up a hand to his mouth, his eyes mockingly wide. “Whooooops, sorry I leaked your secret of being super duper good at making cream puffs like better than any other bakery out there, Yama-chan~!”

“You did that on purpose,” Yamazaki accuses.

“Oh, pleaase.” Oikawa ruffles his hair roughly, then dodges his half-hearted swipe with a yelp. “What’s so shameful about being good at making cream puffs!”

“It’s not shameful, I just don’t need you to advertise it to every single person in the world.”

“What! Why not!”

Yamazaki looks at his feet. “It was supposed to be a secret. Between the two of us.”

Iwaizumi starts at the expression on his face. It doesn’t look like superficial petulance. Oikawa looks bewildered too as he puts his hands on his hips. “’Kay, well, I still don’t really get it, but you know you could be catching _all_ the girls with that kinda skill.”

“I don’t need a girl,” Yamazaki mutters, too forcefully under the context. Emphasis on the last word.

A lightbulb goes off in Iwaizumi’s head: the recognition of his mounting discomfort, the reason why he’s beginning to hold a fierce aversion towards this man he’s just met, the way his hackles are rising.

He's been trying to ignore it, but truthfully, Iwaizumi's been feeling somewhat off-kilter since the baths. He and Oikawa have been on so many trips together, and this one is no different: they goof off, eat mountains of food, and entertain conversations spanning from the inane to the deep. It’s only been a day, but Iwaizumi can’t remember the last time he’s been so content.

But at the same time, in between making fun of Oikawa’s shittiness like he’s always done, he catches himself watching his best friend. Iwaizumi doesn’t know how to put it into words, but it’s jarring, to suddenly find himself attracted to someone he’s so used to, to suddenly notice things like the sexiness of Oikawa’s naked back, smooth and pale, and to have to fight back the urge to keep looking.

For the past three months, he’s been trying to feel out the line between friendship and romance. Iwaizumi may be a proper adult and everything, but he doesn’t understand shit about love. How is he supposed to know how he’ll feel once the novelty wears off? He doesn’t. He’s been waiting for it to fade away, but his attraction for Oikawa isn’t a blip on a radar; rather, it’s like a door’s been opened. There are no guarantees for anything, but everyone around him is braving the fear, jumping into relationships that could waste years of their youth, shave layers off their hearts. He’s been wanting to be selfish and jump into it too, but he’s more afraid of hurting Oikawa. Things are different if it’s Oikawa’s feelings at stake.

Now, he thinks he might have his answer, the answer he should have taken at face value in the first conversation he had with Daichi: he just wants Oikawa to keep smiling at him in that way he does for no one else.

“Hey, uh.”

Oikawa turns to him, eyebrows raised. Yamazaki stops in the middle of his sentence, gaze levelled on them. Iwaizumi feels bad for interrupting him. Vaguely, he wonders if Oikawa is obvious about his feelings when he helps out at the bakery, and whether Yamazaki is aware.

“Sorry to cut you off,” Iwaizumi says, “but do you mind if I turn in first? I think I’ll sleep early tonight.”

Oikawa’s brow furrows. “Are you not feeling well or something, Iwa-chan?”

“No, I’m just sort of tired. Maybe I ate too much.” Iwaizumi offers the balls and paddles. “You can stay if you want to.”

“Nah, I’m fine! We can come again tomorrow. Yama-chan, d’you wanna take these instead? That way you won’t have to rent them yourself.” Yamazaki nods, and Oikawa hands them to him. “See ya later then!”

“Goodnight, Oikawa-san, Iwaizumi-san.” Yamazaki steps away and makes to leave, but his eyes linger on Oikawa, as if caught. Iwaizumi pulls Oikawa away, unable to help himself even as his selfish actions leave a bad taste in his mouth.

Oikawa watches him intently as they walk. “What’s wrong?” he asks, nudging Iwaizumi with his hip. “You look like a grumpy sea urchin.”

“...Sorry,” Iwaizumi mutters.

Oikawa really frowns now, pulling away. “Huh? What for?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t know how to describe the jealousy roiling in his gut, nor the disgust directed at himself for it. “Uh.”

“You know I’m not mad about not getting to play ping pong, right?”

“I know.”

“So what is it?”

Iwaizumi’s stomach churns. “I felt bad. For Yamazaki. And you. Mostly you.”

“Yama-chan?" Oikawa's voice goes high. "Why?”

“Because I think you should get the opportunity to choose,” Iwaizumi growls, frustrated. “But I—”

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa holds up a hand as they stop outside their room, his eyebrows squished together. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Iwaizumi’s chest tightens. He feels almost dizzy, all of his limbs going numb. “I—uh...”

Oikawa tilts his head, eyes round. “Yes?”

Iwaizumi’s heart leaps into his throat. He grabs Oikawa's wrist, trying desperately to keep his hands steady. “You know I...right?”

Oikawa looks absolutely flabbergasted. “Huh?”

“I—fuck.”

“Um...are you okay, Iwa-chan? Your face is really red...wait!” Oikawa slaps a palm on Iwaizumi’s forehead. “Is your fever coming back?! Why didn’t you say so, geez!”

“What, no,” Iwaizumi stammers, “you idiot! I don’t have a fever!”

“Oh. Okay, then what is it?”

Iwaizumi looks into his stupid, cute brown eyes, all of his feelings bubbling inside him. “I…”

Fuck, why is this so hard? He’s not good with words, he’s always been all about actions.

He closes his eyes and sighs. “I was just gonna say...that I know you tilting your head like that is actually a completely calculated move. Which you practiced in the mirror because you thought it was cute.”

Oikawa’s face immediately erupts into bright red. “I—wha—when did you see?!”

“When we were ten.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with that! I’m allowed to, like, take advantage of my cuteness!”

Iwaizumi sighs again, as loudly as he can, slides open the door to their room, and shoves Oikawa inside. “There must be something wrong with me.”

“I dunno what that means but it sounded like you were insulting me for some reason??”

“Shut up, I need to sleep.”

Oikawa grimaces at him. “Iwa-chan, are you really feeling okay?”

“Yeah, ‘m fine.” Iwaizumi burrows himself in his futon and peers up at Oikawa, comforter pulled up to his chin. "Just full."

“Whatever you say.” Oikawa turns off the light and walks off to the bathroom. “I’m gonna wash my face and stuff, so you go ahead and sleep first.” Iwaizumi grunts in agreement. He listens to the sound of the sink and Oikawa splashing water everywhere, before the bathroom light clicks off and the brunet heads for his bed. Iwaizumi listens to him settle in. Oikawa always wiggles around for a while before he finds a comfortable position.

Iwaizumi concentrates on the crickets chirping outside, thinking about their day, about their friendship, and about Yamazaki. This feelings shit is exhausting. “Hey, idiot,” he whispers into the darkness. He doesn’t know even know why he’s whispering, he feels like a moron.

“Rude,” Oikawa whispers back, his voice farther than Iwaizumi was expecting. “What?”

Iwaizumi rolls on to his side, facing away from Oikawa. “Do you wanna...sleep over here?”

“Huh?” The sheets rustle. “Here where?”

Iwaizumi swallows his nerves and stares resolutely at the wall. “With me.”

Oikawa goes silent. Iwaizumi counts the seconds until he can’t stand it anymore.

“Unless it’s too hot,” he adds. “Only...a suggestion.”

He picks at a loose thread. It unravels from the bedding, a tiny, curly white string separating from rows of straight stitches. He tries to tuck it back into its place, guilt flooding into him.

At length, Oikawa says in a small voice, “Can I?”

Iwaizumi wonders, for a moment, if he imagined it. He looks over his shoulder and finds that his eyes have adjusted enough to see Oikawa sitting up, hugging a pillow to his chest.

“Yeah,” he rasps.

Oikawa steps carefully towards Iwaizumi, hopping over his bag and stopping an arm’s length away, teeth digging into his lip. “Um...which side do you prefer...?”

“Ah.” Iwaizumi sits up. “Doesn’t matter. Up to you.”

“Okay, then, I’ll just. Here?”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll move over—” Iwaizumi shimmies over to the side closer to the wall so that Oikawa can slide right in without having to circle around him.

“Thanks.” Oikawa drops his pillow right beside Iwaizumi’s, fluffs it once, and gingerly lies down. Iwaizumi throws the comforter over him and he wraps it snug around his body. “G’night, Iwa-chan.”

“’Night,” Iwaizumi murmurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for readdiinnggg ♥♥♥


	11. Days 128-133

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO thank you so much for your lovely comments last chapter :') read and loved every single one. hope you enjoy this chap too!

_Day 128._

When Oikawa first made the reservations, he didn’t think twice about sharing a room with Iwaizumi. They’ve crammed entire teams into a single room during training camps and vacations, so it was almost a reflex, to reserve only one room for the two of them. Not to mention the gajillion sleepovers they’ve had at each other’s places, back when they were living at their parents’ places. They even share a house now, dammit, so what could possibly go wrong with sharing a room. 

 

OH, THEY COULD END UP IN THE SAME BED. WELL. OIKAWA NEVER ACCOUNTED FOR THAT. HAHAHA, WHAT IS EVEN GOING ON?

Iwaizumi’s breathing is silent, probably steady because he can't hear the freak-out session blowing up in Oikawa's brain. It means Iwaizumi is still awake (which doesn't help Oikawa's nerves), since he's never been the type to sleep silently—if Oikawa can hear him breathing, that means he’s asleep, or about to be. He doesn’t snore often, unless he’s sick or really tired, but his breaths are discernible in the stillness of night, and Oikawa doesn’t mind hearing them at all. It’s comforting. A comfort he would really appreciate right now, in fact.

There’s something about sleeping right next to someone, though, that feels much too intimate. And knowing their sleeping habits feels like accidentally finding out a secret of theirs, like knowing too much. Of course, Oikawa is well-versed in all of Iwaizumi’s sleeping habits, what with the years they’ve known each other, but it’s different when Iwaizumi is so close Oikawa can feel his body heat, and maybe even sense the comforter moving over his chest. Oikawa doesn’t like sleeping with other people in the same bed. He can’t remember the last time he did.

“Why are you all the way over there?” Iwaizumi mutters all of a sudden, breaking the silence.

“Um,” Oikawa squeaks. “No reason, I was just afraid you wouldn’t have enough room.”

“I have more than enough room.” 

Oikawa doesn’t know what to say to that. “Oh.”

Iwaizumi lets out a long exhale. “C’mere.” An arm hurls across Oikawa’s middle and drags him over the futon until he fits right against Iwaizumi’s body, nose pressed into his neck. Oikawa stares wide-eyed at the skin in front of him, arms curled instinctively in front of his chest. He peeks down, gulping when he finds that Iwaizumi’s yukata has loosened just enough for Oikawa to take his fill of his chest.

“Wow,” he accidentally says aloud, heart thrashing in his ribcage. Geez, Iwaizumi can definitely feel it, with how close he is.

“What?” Iwaizumi says. Oikawa spreads his palms over Iwaizumi’s chest to savour the vibrations of his voice.

“N-Nothing.”

Ummm, what if he passes out from how fast his heart is beating? Is that a thing? Will he die? He can see the headlines, “Volleyball Superstar Dies From Best Friend’s Hotness.” Oh man, just put him out of his misery already.

“You aren’t sleepy?” Iwaizumi mumbles into his hair, and wowowow, that’s really nice too. Also, how’s it possible for a human being to smell so good, sweet baby Jesus. Oikawa sniffs at Iwaizumi’s neck discreetly. He takes back everything he’s ever said about not liking sharing a bed with someone because this is pretty darn amazing. And speaking of amazing, he’s amazed at himself for getting so worked up over sharing a bed when they’ve kissed and—had sex and everythin’ already, but seriously, this is new and great and, dare he think, _romantic_.

What if he does something embarrassing, though? Like talk in his sleep. Or fart. It’s not like he can control his bowels when he’s out like a light, right?! As much as he hates to admit it, even Oikawa farts sometimes, he’s not actually a superhuman being!

“Did you say something?” Oikawa asks when the silence stretches on for too long.

Iwaizumi lets out a sweet little nose-exhale laugh. “I asked if you were sleepy, Dumbkawa.”

“Um, not really?" Oikawa tries not to fidget. "Are you?”

“No.”

“Oh. Okay. Why’d you ask?”

A shrug. “Just wondering if I should shut up and let you sleep.”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

Iwaizumi cards a hand through Oikawa’s hair, and the latter has to actively suppress a shiver. “’m glad work will be easier for the next while.”

“...Mm?” Oikawa manages.

“I didn’t get to really talk to you in weeks. And then I got sick.”

“Oh.” Oikawa nuzzles closer, pushing his head into Iwaizumi’s hand, who pets him indulgently. “Not gonna lie, that kinda sucked.”

“Mh.”

Iwaizumi brushes Oikawa’s hair back and shifts to kiss him on the temple, then on the cheek. Oikawa’s breath hitches and he clings to the front of Iwaizumi’s yukata. A thumb draws circles over his cheekbones, methodical but soothing. Then warm hands cup his jaw, turning him so that Iwaizumi can kiss his other cheek too, lips warm and gentle, leaving the skin tingling.

“Iwa-chan,” he pouts. Dark eyes glitter from the feeble moonlight coming in from the open window, and Oikawa thinks he catches the white glint of a smile.

Iwaizumi pecks him once on his nose, then finally meets Oikawa’s parted lips with his own, soft as butter. Oikawa sighs, snaking one arm around Iwaizumi’s neck and the other over his waist, hugging the other man close. Iwaizumi tilts his head and slides his tongue against Oikawa’s, wet and slow. He tastes like toothpaste, the boring kind they have in hotels that Oikawa hates because they don’t foam properly. Maybe he won’t hate it so much anymore after today.

Iwaizumi takes his time with Oikawa’s mouth, his lips and tongue unhurriedly searching out the sensitive spots and turning Oikawa’s brain to mush. A hand trails down to pull the brunet’s yukata over one shoulder, making his heart pound in his ears and his face warm.

Iwaizumi breaks the kiss, the sound of their lips separating sending heat to Oikawa’s belly. “Can I?” he says.

Oikawa watches his Adam’s apple bob. “Yes,” he whispers into the space between them. Iwaizumi smiles and leans in to kiss him again, Oikawa kissing back and distractedly undoing the tie of his own yukata to help Iwaizumi pull it off. His hands shake a little when he feels around for the knot of Iwaizumi’s tie, managing to loosen it with a few quick tugs. He pauses, too nervous to strip the other man himself, so he shimmies out of his own underwear first. His squirming causes a draft to enter the bedding and he jerks, squishing himself hard against Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi laughs into his mouth and pulls away. “What are you doing?”

“It—I was cold!” Oikawa whines.

“You’re cold?” Iwaizumi shrugs off the rest of his clothes, flings them somewhere behind him, and wraps Oikawa in his arms, skin-on-skin. Okay, not cold anymore. Actually, Oikawa thinks he might be on fire. “Better?”

Oikawa bites his bottom lip and curls a leg around Iwaizumi’s. “Maybe.”

“What a brat.” Iwaizumi headbutts him lightly.

“Am not.” Oikawa shifts a little and his erection bumps into Iwaizumi’s hip. “Oh! Uh, whoops.”

Iwaizumi grins wordlessly, then ducks down, pressing his lips to the spot just below Oikawa’s ear. Oikawa grabs the back of Iwaizumi’s neck as support, sucking in air as the other man traces kisses down his throat, nipping occasionally. Warm palms slide leisurely all over Oikawa’s body, down his chest, curling around his waist and then up his back to tangle into his hair. Oikawa loves it, he wants more.

“Fuck, I don’t have lube,” Iwaizumi mutters against his collarbone.

“Mm, I brought coconut oil.”

The hands pause over Oikawa’s butt, cupping the flesh. “Why did you bring coconut oil with you, of all things.”

“It’s to keep my skin hydra—that’s not important, Iwa-chan, don’t stop!” Iwaizumi snorts and pinches his butt before climbing out of bed.

“Where’d you put it?”

Oikawa stares shamelessly. His best friend’s the type to put on muscle easily, and now he’s grateful they kept the window open so he can see it all. He revels in the chiseled swells and grooves of Iwaizumi’s chest and abdomen and the long lines of his strong legs. Most devastating is the natural ruggedness he moves with, the way he carries himself. Oikawa’s mouth goes dry when his gaze falls to Iwaizumi’s thick erection.

“Oikawa?”

“Huh?”

“Where’d you put your dumb oil?”

“Um—in my bag, the front pocket.”

Iwaizumi leans down, giving Oikawa the perfect view of his toned ass, and pulls out the oil. He turns around with a huge grin, holding it up in triumph. Oikawa groans and puts his hands over his face. “Stop being so embarrassing, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi laughs and quickly sneaks his way back into the futon. He crawls up Oikawa’s body, boxing his head in with his arms and lowering himself to lie on the other man. Oikawa’s lips twitch with mirth and exasperation. “You’re heavy, Iwa-chan.”

“Mm.” Iwaizumi smacks a wet smooch on his mouth. “But you like it.”

Oikawa doesn’t bother denying it and pulls him down for a deep kiss. He loves this, that they can play around and be themselves. Last time they had sex, it was rushed and hot as sin and he loved every single second of it, but this is a different way to enjoy themselves. He's surprised they're able to act so naturally during sex, that _he's_ able to do so.

He moans when Iwaizumi sucks on his tongue, clutching the dark-haired man’s shoulders. His dick’s been hard for the past decade already, and he shifts, searching for relief but unwilling to let go of Iwaizumi. As if reading his mind, Iwaizumi palms his erection, stroking him a couple times, before fingers find his entrance, prodding and circling. His hand’s already slick, a single digit sliding in easily.

Oikawa gasps, lips detaching from Iwaizumi’s with a pop. He scrunches his eyes closed, mouth falling open in bliss. The week or so after the first time they had sex, he fingered himself every chance he got, unable to help it whenever the memories surfaced, but it’s been a while since then. And no matter how many times he’s fantasized about it, the feeling of Iwaizumi’s finger in him is electrifying.

“You okay?” Iwaizumi says quietly, planting kisses over his face. Oikawa nods and clings harder, knowing the angle is probably awkward for Iwaizumi’s wrist, but he can’t let go now. Iwaizumi chuckles and presses his lips against Oikawa’s ear. “You’re cute,” he whispers, his hot breath sending a shiver up Oikawa’s back.

Oikawa jolts when the words register, eyes snapping wide open. “Wh-what?”

“I said, you’re cute.” Iwaizumi bites his ear lobe gently, simultaneously easing in another finger. Oikawa gives around him, taking in the second digit with the slipperiness of the oil, almost distracting him from his train of thought. He wants to ask Iwaizumi what he means. Does he think Oikawa is cute? Really? In what way? Iwaizumi has never voiced any sort of admiration nor personal interest towards Oikawa’s appearance before, so why now? But as quickly as the thoughts surface, they fade, wiped away by the lips sucking marks into his neck and the fingers carefully scissoring inside him.

“Iwa-chan,” he moans, not knowing what he’s asking for but needing _something_. Iwaizumi makes an inquisitive humming noise as he slowly kisses down Oikawa’s chest. Without Iwaizumi’s shoulders to hold on to, Oikawa can only fist the sheets. “Iwa-chan, _more_.” Teeth close around Oikawa’s nipple and he whimpers, back arching. He can feel himself clench around Iwaizumi’s fingers, his passage craving something thicker.

“Mm.” A tongue swirls around the abused nipple, lapping until it’s hard as a rock. “In a minute.” Iwaizumi switches to the other one, flicking and sucking, and Oikawa writhes, the arousal flaring in his belly unbearable.

“Iwa-chan, stop teasing,” he whines, spreading his legs. Iwaizumi shudders against him, sitting back to look, his fingers never stopping. Finally, he slips in a third, and Oikawa wants to throw his head back and revel in the feeling, but he keeps his gaze trained on Iwaizumi’s thick forearm, flexing with each thrust. “God,” he hisses, pushing his hips against those skilled fingers as they massage and pet his slick insides. Iwaizumi’s other hand strokes over his shoulders, chest, stomach, like he can’t get enough of touching Oikawa. His eyes are tender in a way Oikawa is unfamiliar with.

Right when he’s starting to feel like he might die, Iwaizumi pulls his fingers out and wipes them on the futon before spreading Oikawa’s legs even more and fitting himself between them. His jaw tightens as he takes his cock and lines it up, his other hand bracing his weight. Oikawa curls his fingers around his wrist, panting shallowly in anticipation.

Iwaizumi sinks in slowly, his cock stretching Oikawa’s hole in a way that would’ve been painful if he wasn’t so thoroughly fingered. Oikawa's eyes roll to the back of his head and he hazily hears himself make a sound like he’s swallowed his tongue.

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi hisses. “Oikawa, loosen up a little.”

He’s trying but it’s hard, it’s so _good_. Iwaizumi’s hand cups his face and he turns into it, eyelashes fluttering.

“Fuck, look at you,” Iwaizumi mumbles. Oikawa twitches at his reverent tone, opening his eyes so he can look up at Iwaizumi. Sweat beads on his temple, the tendons in his neck straining, but his gaze is so soft it makes Oikawa’s chest squeeze.

“Iwa-chan...” Oikawa intertwines his fingers behind Iwaizumi’s neck, tugging him down so they can kiss. He pours all of his love into it, imagining that he’ll one day be able to convey the immensity of his feelings with words. “Mm, fuck me, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi obeys, pulling out and thrusting in, setting a slow pace. They continue to kiss, lips swollen and tongues entwined, interrupted only by small gasps of air. It's warm, warm inside and all around him. For some reason, the backs of his eyes begin to prickle.

“Stay with me,” Iwaizumi murmurs against his mouth. “Oikawa.”

Oikawa blinks, meeting Iwaizumi’s blackened green eyes gazing into his, hooded and warm. He doesn’t know what Iwaizumi means, but he nods, because where would he ever go without his Iwa-chan? “Yes,” he whispers, trembling all over, hips meeting Iwaizumi’s slow, steady thrusts.

Iwaizumi grins boyishly, as if Oikawa just gave him the greatest gift. The tears spill over, trailing over Oikawa's temples, and his best friend brushes them away with his thumbs. Oikawa never knew he could be so gentle. He squeezes his eyes shut again, not knowing where to look or what to think, the steady, simmering pleasure at his core frying all of his thoughts. Everything about Iwaizumi, his smell, his heavy breaths, the addicting taste of his mouth, the way he fits into Oikawa’s most delicate place—Oikawa loves it in a way that overwhelms him. It’s all he can do to hold on.

The peak hits him by surprise and he suddenly comes, completely untouched. His vision goes white and the world around is muted for a moment as his senses short out from pleasure, his body aware only of the places Iwaizumi’s touching him and the swelling of emotion in his chest. He cries out, back bowing, allowing himself to let go, knowing Iwaizumi’s got him and that he’s safe. Iwaizumi groans into his neck as heat floods his insides.

They shudder back into coherency together, and when Oikawa stirs back to consciousness, it’s to Iwaizumi’s chest moving with his inhales against Oikawa’s face.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi rumbles, petting Oikawa’s hair and occasionally brushing it from his face. “You okay?”

Oikawa sighs in contentment, snuggling closer. “Mm-hm.”

“We should clean up,” Iwaizumi says, though his hand doesn’t stop. Oikawa makes a high-pitched, disapproving sound. “Don’t complain, you’re the one who’ll regret it most if we don’t.”

Oikawa presses his face into Iwaizumi’s chest in wordless protest. The latter laughs. “Fine, I’ll do it later. Go on and sleep.”

Oikawa smiles. “G’night, Iwa-chan.”

“’Night.”

* * *

_Day 133._

Oikawa watches them over the top of the couch, chin in hand, wondering when they’ll notice. It’s been a good two minutes of this back-and-forth, and while the scene is objectively quite sexy, he’s got to wonder how oblivious two people can be.

“Stop it already, you asshole, Oikawa’s right there—”

“He’s sleeping, it’s fine—”

“No, it’s n—mmph! Mnnn...ah...Kuroo, sto—mmnn...get your hand off my ass, you damn pervert...”

“Daichiiii.”

“I told you not to call me that around other people, son of a—oh god—”

“Fuck, Daichi, you’re so fucking hot—”

OOOOKAY, and that’s where Oikawa is drawing a line.

“So I’m actually still here, you know!” he calls over.

Both men’s eyes shoot open before Daichi scrambles away from Kuroo, shoving him back, face red as a tomato. Kuroo trips over a stray box and crashes hip-first into the kitchen counter.

“Ow, fuck!”

“That’s what you get,” Daichi stammers, shuffling away from him and into the living room. “God, I’m sorry, Oikawa, we totally got carried away.”

Oikawa winks and flashes a peace sign. “No worries! It was hot while it lasted!”

“Hey, what do you think you were doing, just sitting there and enjoying Da—Sawamura’s hotness! What the hell!” Kuroo stumbles over and lands beside Oikawa on the couch. He waves a menacing fist in the brunet’s face. “Pay up, bastard.”

“What am I, a prostitute!” Daichi splutters.

“Babe.” Kuroo puts a hand on his chest. “You’re the finest jewel to ever grace homo sapien eyes. But you’re _my_ jewel.”

Oikawa shoves him away. “You disgust me, Kuro-chan.”

“What, you jelly?” Kuroo clambers over Oikawa’s legs and flops into the space between him and the armrest. Then he swiftly pulls his boyfriend into his lap and coils his arms around his middle like some kind of two-armed snake. Daichi flushes and struggles valiantly, elbows and all, but Kuroo holds on through the power of true love. When Daichi finally gives up, Kuroo smooches him on the cheek and leans back with a smug smirk.

Oikawa recoils. “You are literally the grossest being to ever be inflicted upon homo sapien eyes.”

“You can say whatever you want, but you’re the one who came to this being for love advice,” Kuroo sniffs.

“UM, EXCUSE YOU, I CAME TO DAI-CHAN FOR LOVE ADVICE AND YOU JUST HAPPENED TO EXIST IN THE SAME UNIVERSE.”

“Semantics.”

“Do you even know what that word means???” Oikawa demands.

Kuroo gives him the finger. “Fuck you, I got a full-ride to Toudai.”

“Yeah, for your _volleyball_ skills.”

“Semantics.”

“Let’s not fight now,” Daichi says flatly, holding his hands up like he’s the one being threatened. “Oikawa, you fell asleep before telling us what happened with Iwaizumi.”

“Oh, right.” Oikawa scratches his head. “Where did I leave off again?”

“Hold up, I’m actually gonna do the dishes real quick, else it’s gonna bother me. Feel free to get started first.” Kuroo lifts Daichi off his lap and ambles back into the kitchen, rolling his sleeves up.

Oikawa makes sure Kuroo is out of earshot before leaning towards Daichi. “So...why’s he being so...touchy-feely today?” he says under his breath. Daichi flinches.

“Ah...we had a small fight,” he admits with a sheepish smile.

“No way." The two of them never fight. Oikawa can't even remember the last time they did. "What about? If you don’t mind me asking, I mean.”

“Oh, it was nothing big...I received a confession letter from a co-worker and forgot to throw it away, and Kuroo thought I brought it home on purpose, I guess.” Daichi rubs the back of his neck. “We just had a bit of miscommunication about it.”

Oikawa frowns. “Wait, but what does that have to do with him being touchy-feely? Is he thirsting after the make-up sex or something?” To his surprise, instead of blushing, Daichi’s expression wavers.

“No, I think...being close makes him feel safer, or something like that.”

“Huh?”

Daichi shrugs. “You know how he used to say the first one that falls in love loses.”

Oikawa purses his lips. “You don’t think he still...”

“Maybe, I don’t know. Sometimes—and it’s very rare, but sometimes, I wonder if I make him feel insecure.”

“No way,” Oikawa gasps. “Kuro-chan?”

Daichi shakes his head. “Actually, that’s not the right way to word it. It’s not that he feels insecure, I just doubt my own ability to convey my feelings, and I wonder if it makes him think I don’t love him as much as he loves me.” He looks Oikawa in the eye and smiles. “That’s not how it works though, the whole who-falls-in-love-first thing. You know I don’t have a natural talent for expressing my affection, not like him, but. Well. Even the process of trying is enjoyable.”

Oikawa laughs. “You know, it sounds to me like you two are absolutely smitten, and proud of it.”

“Yeah.” Daichi grins and pats Oikawa on the back. “You should keep this in mind too, though. It’s not about who falls in love first, all right?” He sighs loudly, staring at the ground. “Boy, does it not matter at all.”

Oikawa smacks him on the arm. “Eww, stop bragging already.”

“I’m not!” he protests. “Anyway, I think it’s better if I go help the blockhead with the dishes. More efficient that way.”

“Oh. Right, good idea.”

Oikawa insists on helping wipe the table at least, seeing as Daichi and Kuroo treated him to a delicious home-made dinner once again. Kuroo concedes and lobs a damp dishtowel at him, and Daichi smiles wryly before heading into the kitchen under the guise of “giving Kuroo a hand so we can sit down, relax, and enjoy your Iwaizumi tales.” What he really does is nestle himself into Kuroo’s side, face pressed into his shoulder, unintentionally slowing down Kuroo’s dish-drying. Oikawa doesn’t mind a bit. They look happy, which makes him happy too. Seeing other couples in love used to make jealousy boil in his blood, and it still does, to some extent—but knowing his friends are experiencing that kind of happiness is wonderful, even if he can’t help the occasional bittersweet twinge in his gut.

They remind him of the Hollywood rom-com movies he had a phase for back in university, so many of them revolving around the best friends-turned-lovers trope. He was obsessed, for obvious reasons. A lot of them explored the difference between friendship and love, and Oikawa has personally asked several of his friends the same question. He’s received answers as simple as “well, if you wanna have sex with ‘em,” to long-winded narratives about the philosophies and motivations behind romantic love. He supposes he can somewhat understand confusing the two, but for him, the distinction has always been easy. Oikawa’s the type of guy to be fiercely loyal and well-wishing towards his friends, but the amount of sap he holds for a lover is on an entirely different level. He can’t imagine the huge, gooey, overflowing affection he harbours for Iwaizumi to be anything other than the love described in fairytale romances. It’s there whenever Oikawa so much as thinks about him, it’s almost a state of existence, leaving him feeling weak, and the problem is that he’s not sure how much of it he’s allowed to show now.

Something about that night during their onsen trip felt different from their normal interactions, but he can’t put his finger on what. At first, he was glad they were acting like themselves in the face of all the non-platonicness, but then he realized that didn't seem entirely accurate, either. And Iwaizumi hasn’t been around for him to analyze; he went straight back to late nights at work as soon as they returned from their holiday to cover for yet another ill colleague (Oikawa should start sending them all vitamins or something, dammit). After their first night at the onsen, they unexpectedly met up with Yahaba, Kyoutani, and Watari who were coincidentally also vacationing there, so they spent the rest of the trip moving as a group and reminiscing about old times. It was great, but it meant they always drank past midnight, which resulted in Oikawa and Iwaizumi not getting to sleep together or any of the other fun stuff he was originally hoping for.

Lame.

Oikawa sighs, dropping the dishtowel he’s been absently rubbing over the table for the past five minutes. The table’s squeaky clean already, but he figures Daichi and Kuroo could use some extra alone time. Oikawa’s actually the best friend ever, he should get an award.

...Psyche! He’s a nosy bastard, so he’s gonna scoot closer and listen in on their conversation! He’s bored, okay, give him a break.

“...springtime, and they were really beautiful,” Daichi is saying, wiping a plate that looks very not-wet, head still resting on Kuroo’s right shoulder, who’s using his left hand to carefully dry his own stack.

“Damn, that’s impressive. I’ve heard roses are kinda hard to grow.”

“Yeah, they’re a lot of work. Apparently, the hardest part is making sure they bloom again the year after.”

“Ah, yeah, since they’re perennials.”

“...How’d you know that?”

Kuroo’s shoulders inch toward his ears, but his voice is airy when he says, “I have approximate knowledge of lotsa things, babe!”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

Kuroo instantly deflates, putting down his plate. He turns his head towards Daichi, and Oikawa catches a glimpse of his abashed side-profile. “Errrr. I might have ordered a gardening starting pack and some Rosa Peace seeds?”

“What?” Daichi straightens, staring incredulously at his boyfriend. “Wait—Rosa Peace, the yellow-pink roses?”

Kuroo shrugs. “I dunno, I just thought...since you liked them so much. I’ve done a lot of research, I think they’ll do well on our balcony. And you don’t have to do anything except admire them since I can take care of them on my own, so—”

Daichi drapes his arms over Kuroo’s shoulders, rises to his tiptoes, and kisses him square on the mouth. The taller man stands frozen for a millisecond before melting into him, cheeks going pink. Oikawa feels butterflies in his own stomach, the scene is so sweet.

Daichi pulls away only by an inch, mouth curved in a dreamy smile. “So I show you pictures of my co-worker’s roses and tell you how pretty I think they are _one time_ , and you suddenly decide to become a rose connoisseur.”

Kuroo pretends to think. “Yeah?” Daichi bursts out in laughter, and Kuroo grins. “Y’know, I was really debating between Rosa Peace and this other yellowish one called Buff Beauty. Because you’re my Buff Beauty, obviously. But I thought going with the one you confirmed your love for was safer.”

“Maybe I’ll plant a Buff Beauty, then.” Daichi tilts his head forward, tapping their noses together. “Since you’re my Buff Beauty, too,” he whispers.

Oikawa has never in his life seen Kuroo’s face turn that colour, even after hours of grueling practice designed specifically to murder athletes. “Daichi, stop it, you’re killing me,” he whines, burying his face in Daichi’s neck. “Who taught you all these lines, huh?! You player!”

“You. Duh.”

“Have you guys noticed that ever since you started dating, you’ve started talking the same way,” Oikawa drawls from over the back of the couch. “Especially you, Dai-chan. You just said ’duh,’ pfftt!”

Both men freeze again, caught up in each other’s arms. “Uh,” they say at the same time.

“Yeah, like that!”

They hurriedly untangle their limbs, Kuroo swearing at Oikawa and Daichi stuttering out, “I-It’s not like he invented the word ‘duh’!”

“No, ‘cause I say it too,” Oikawa argues, “but can you imagine Captain Sawamura of Karasuno saying that to his horde of little crows? ‘Yeah, Shrimpy’s gonna be our future ace, duh!’ HAHAHA!”

“You’re the only one who calls him Shrimpy,” Daichi mutters.

“Hey, what’s wrong with talking like me!” Kuroo protests. “I’m a fuckin’ delight!”

“No one asked you, Kuroo.”

“Yeah, Kuro-chan, shut up.”

 

 

 

Hours later, Oikawa’s finished TMIing with his “Iwaizumi Tales” and they’ve all more than met their monthly quota of bitching/gossiping/sharing of racy stories.

“You staying over?” Kuroo asks from the floor. Oikawa’s lying upside down on the sofa, the way Iwaizumi doesn’t let him since it’s bad for his digestion (but Oikawa is an independent Asian man who don’t need no mother telling him how to sit after eating).

“Nahh. I ain’t that much of a cockblock, Kuro-chan.”

Kuroo scoffs and reaches up to punch him on the arm. “Dude, it’s not like we’d die from a single night of cockblock. Iwaizumi’s not coming home again tonight, right?”

“Yeah. But it’s fine, I'll survive on my own. Thanks, though.”

“Eh, what are bros for.” Kuroo pauses, expression going pensive. “So what did you and Sawamura talk about earlier? While I was in the kitchen.”

“Oh.” Oikawa taps his chin. “Not much, I asked why you were being all touchy-feely and he said you guys recently had a small fight.”

“Ah, that’s what I thought.”

“...Say, do you really think the first person who falls in love loses?” Oikawa asks curiously. Kuroo quirks an eyebrow.

“No. I used to, but not anymore.”

“But Dai-chan thinks you do.”

“That was before we officially got together, though. Like, during my angsty days when I was pining after him. I know he's craaazy for me now.”

Oikawa tumbles over so that he’s sitting upright, gaping down at Kuroo. “But does he know you think that?”

“Duh. How could we be with each other if we didn’t love the other person and know the vice versa is also true?” A smile slices across his face, wicked but somehow loving at the same time. “But if he needs a push to express his nasty, sappy feelings for me, then who am I to complain, yanno? He’s a smart man, he knows what’s going on, and it’s win-win for us both.”

It takes a moment for Oikawa to wrap his head around that. “So...you’re saying, ninety-nine percent of the time, Dai-chan is sure you know he loves you more than anything in the world, but if the opportunity comes up, like say after a fight, then he gladly uses that excuse to be sappier?”

“Yeah, pretty much. We fight, then we get touchy ‘cause we miss each other, and also ‘cause we feel like we should cherish the other person more, or whatever the fuck.”

“Wow,” Oikawa marvels. “So this is what a committed relationship looks like.”

“I guess. It’s not all that complicated. We’re in love so we do nice things for each other.” Kuroo leers and leans right into Oikawa’s personal space. “Don’t worry, I’ll be your senpai in _lurv_ matters.”

“Ewww!” Oikawa grabs a cushion and smacks him with it. “You gross old man!” Kuroo cackles and retaliates by hurling one at him too. He should’ve known better, because that makes Oikawa’s competitive spirit rise and they end up in a full-out pillow fight. Like preteen girls.

After tiring themselves out, they lie back on the floor, panting.

“So,” Oikawa pokes him. “Are you ever gonna tell us why you’re not allowed to call Dai-chan by his first name?”

Kuroo holds his hands in prayer position and shakes his head solemnly. “I have been made to swear on my Pokémon card collection to never tell a soul. However.” His smirk is the manifestation of all sadistic and perverted things in the world. “I can tell you the reason is the most obvious one you can think of.”

Oikawa shudders and wiggles away like a worm. “Why did I even ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading :3


	12. Days 146-152

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first i want to say sorry for the UNACCEPTABLE delay, it was partly due to recent life changes, partly due to a lack of motivation, partly due to kiribaku slaying me. i hope you'll accept my sincere apologies.
> 
> second i am very happy to say that i have the majority of the rest of the story written. i can't promise exact dates, but please rest assured that the remainder of the updates will be consistent and you will NOT be waiting for months
> 
> third i'd like to extend my heartfelt thanks towards all yall readers, and in particular, to those who took time outta their day to write comments. i'd like to dedicate this chapter to a few of you, some who've been with this story since its start, some who later compiled their thoughts and wrote the most generous reviews: **EreKanezawa, fairy1331, Keffy19, AlannaRose, liwk, Miyuki, Jes, Tarlatana, strawberryowl, Imaginative_Authoress,** and **messalin**. 
> 
> BY NO MEANS am i saying that shorter comments are less appreciated, or that those of you who read my dumb stories but don't necessarily comment aren't appreciated. however, i wanted to give something back to the people whose comments just...gave me feels and motivation and love and THANK YOU ♥ i wanted to let you know the extent of my appreciation. and i wanted to reply to each and every one of you, but by the time i got my head outta my ass, months had already passed and i thought spamming your inboxes for a story from ages ago might be a little too pigheaded, so...here we are. again, thank you so much.
> 
> OK ILL SHUT UP I HOPE U ENJOY~

_Day 146._

_Oikawa: IWA-CHAAAANNN, im gonna eat with the team tonight wont be home for dinner dont starve ok~~~~_

Iwaizumi breathes a sigh of relief. Now he won’t have to come up with some excuse he’ll later forget he made.

_Me: got it_

He pockets his phone and skips down the stairs two at a time, weaving his way through the rush hour crowd. Compared to the chaos of the station, the underground shopping centre connected to it is much less busy, save for the lines outside some of the restaurants. He strolls past the shop windows, mentally mapping a route through all of Oikawa’s favourite stores. Luckily, everything’s open until late in Tokyo, otherwise he would’ve had to sneak out on a weekend, and that wouldn’t have worked.

As Oikawa’s best friend, one would think he’d have a good idea what to get the other man for his birthday, but Iwaizumi’s shit at this kind of thing. Usually, he sticks with what’s safe: milk bread, gift cards to his beloved clothing and skincare shops, practical stuff like volleyball gear. Oikawa’s always happy with whatever he gets him, but this year, he’s determined to do something different. More special, more thoughtful, partly as an apology for not getting to be around much, but mostly because he’s sort of—fallen in love with the idiot.

He’s thinking something along the lines of an accessory might be nice, since Oikawa does like his shiny things. But Iwaizumi’s fashion sense doesn’t stretch far beyond regular street stuff, and Oikawa’s particular about his accents. With his ex-girlfriends, Iwaizumi would just drop by a nice jewelry store and ask the saleslady to pick something for him, but he wants to do more than that for Oikawa. At the very least, as a fellow man, he should have some idea what a guy would like, and what looks good, right?

The first shop he enters is a pricey clothing boutique that Oikawa only allows himself to shop at when he feels like he deserves a treat. The designs seem to lean towards the classier, elegant end; Oikawa’s penchant for the gaudy and colourful is limited to the stuff he wears in private, since he has an “image” to maintain.

Iwaizumi holds up a dress shirt that seems like it’d look good on Oikawa. It’s nice, but maybe not enough to justify the ridiculous price tag. He shakes his head and puts the shirt back on the rack. Careful scrutiny of the rest of the store only leaves him confused and proves that he seriously doesn’t have an eye for this kind of thing. Iwaizumi’s the type of guy to buy ten of the same shirt in different colours if he finds one he likes, and usually during sale season.

The next place is one of the posher bakeries in Tokyo, mainly famous for their intricate pastries. Oikawa’s favourite cake in the world is from here, the Coconut Cream Triple-Sponge Custard Cake that Iwaizumi can’t exactly tell apart from this other one from the supermarket. He got a half-hour lecture on the subtleties of cream and the balance between moistness and firmness the one time he mentioned this to Oikawa.

He studies the cake and all the other ones around it. There isn’t one that doesn’t look delicious, even to him, and he doesn’t have a sweet tooth. A cake alone for this birthday doesn’t seem like enough, but it can always be one part of the present.

“Welcome, sir, how may I help you?”

The girl at the counter is wearing a tasteful apron and one of those fancy French hats—berets, he thinks they’re called? Briefly, Iwaizumi imagines Oikawa wearing it, along with a frilly white apron. He tries not to laugh.

“Hi, uh, I’d like to order one of those custard cakes? For pick-up on the twentieth.”

“Of course, sir.” The girl picks up a notepad. “What size would you like?”

“Eight-inch, please. And can you write ‘Happy Birthday, Oikawa’ on the chocolate disk?”

“Yes, for sure.”

“Great, thanks. Should I pay now, or...?”

“Yes, we ask for a deposit during the ordering process and accept the remaining half of the payment during pick-up.”

“I’ll just pay for the whole thing now, if that’s fine with you. Is VISA okay?”

“Yes, of course. Go right ahead, sir.”

Iwaizumi looks around as he waits for the payment to process, wondering if he should grab anything else while he’s here. A keychain of a croissant catches his eye, but he decides to leave it for the moment, since he’s looking for an accessory for the actual birthday present already, anyway.

He thanks the girl and exits the bakery, crossing his arms as he thinks about where he should go now. The third stop ends up being a Korean skincare and makeup store he wanders by when he makes his way out of underground mall and into the streets again. Iwaizumi doesn’t even know why he bothers walking in. Like hell he knows the difference between a serum or ampoule or essence or toner. There’s this funny little thing which turns out to be a facial mist packaged in a plastic bunny container. It looks like something Oikawa would carry around with him, but it’s not really what Iwaizumi’s searching for.

His fourth and fifth attempts are sports stores, but nothing stands out. Oikawa got a haul of stuff he needed just a few months ago, so he’s not lacking in anything. After the eighth stop, Iwaizumi is still just as clueless as he was when he set off, and night has already begun setting in. He never knew how quickly time could pass while shopping.

The crowds have thinned now that the worst of rush hour has passed. There’s a Family Mart a block down, so he heads there to grab a bento, claiming a seat by the window and eating as he people-watches. Among the suits, groups of high-schoolers and what look like university students saunter down the street, laughing and shoving each other. A lot of the girls have fuzzy balls or blinged-up keychains hanging from their bags. Iwaizumi takes note of them, wondering if Oikawa would like any of those.

The reason he’s inclined towards getting an accessory is because Oikawa was so happy he almost cried when Iwaizumi gave him an alien bobblehead from a capsule toy vending machine, the afternoon following their high school graduation. To this day, Iwaizumi still doesn’t know what made him react that way. He knows it probably has more to do with graduating than the bobblehead itself, but the memory has always stuck with him, and he wants to draw out that happiness from Oikawa again.

Oh, maybe Hanamaki would have an idea what Oikawa is interested in recently, since they talk about that kind of shit all the time. Why didn’t he think of it earlier? He digs his phone out of his briefcase, putting his chopsticks down to shoot off a text.

_Me: hey, you free to talk_

Hanamaki replies within seconds, as usual.

_Hanamaki: y yes i am hello_

_Me: dunno what to get for the idiot’s birthday, you got any ideas_

_Hanamaki: u ;) ;) ;) ;) ;)_

Iwaizumi groans and resists throwing his innocent phone on the ground.

_Me: bastard im serious_

_Hanamaki: so am i ;)))))))))))))) tie a bow around urself and voila_

_Me: fuck you_

_Hanamaki: good idea u could say that to oikawa_

_Me: ..._

_Hanamaki: HAAAAAAAHAHA ok jk so u cant think of anything huh_

_Me: i’ve only been wandering around_

_Hanamaki: hmm lemme see_

_Hanamaki: oh u know that jewelry place_

_Hanamaki: the one he goes to whenever hes depressed_

_Hanamaki: cuz its full of things he likes but would feel guilty buying_

_Me: oh fuck, i didn’t even think of that cuz he hasn’t gone recently_

_Hanamaki: u could take a look around_

_Hanamaki: its expensive tho_

_Me: do you rmb what it’s called_

_Hanamaki: bruh i even kn ow exactly where it is_

Hanamaki sends him the address and Iwaizumi promises to drop by his flower shop sometime with coffee as thanks. He quickly scarfs down the rest of his bento and starts heading for downtown.

A twenty-minute walk later, the navigation app on his phone says the place should be right in sight around the corner, but no matter how many times he treks up and down the street, it’s just not there.

“What the fuck,” he mutters. It’s completely dark now, and he’s not sure what time the shop closes. Worried, he ducks into the closest store. “Um—‘scuse me,” he greets the man behind the counter. “Sorry for bothering you, but I was wondering where this place was.” He shows the name and address on his phone.

“Oh, they moved a month or so ago. Take a right, keep walking straight, and you’ll see it on the left after ten minutes or so.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

Iwaizumi hurries out, flicking his wrist to get his watch out from under his sleeve. 8:43 pm. What time do stores in this area typically close, dammit?

Thankfully, the shop is exactly where the man said it would be, and he rushes inside, breathing heavily from running. “Hi, what time do you close?” he asks.

A girl who was dusting a display case shoots upright. “Eleven, sir!”

“Thank fuck,” he says under his breath. “Sorry, I was afraid I’d be too late.”

She hides a smile behind her hand. “Oh, please don’t worry about it. Were you looking for something for yourself today?”

“Ah, no, for my friend. I’ll just look around first.”

“Of course, please take your time.”

Half of the store is the typical dainty jewelry for women that Iwaizumi is used to seeing, and the other half is for men. There are two display cases for necklaces alone, along with a bunch of heavy-looking chain stuff and what looks like prayer bead jewelry, but decorated for young people or something. Iwaizumi’s head is beginning to spin. The most involved with jewelry he’s ever been personally is choosing cuff links for his suits.

“Would you like some help, sir?” The girl asks. Relief floods through him.

“Yes, please.” He sets his briefcase down on a nearby chair. “I want to find a birthday present for my male friend. Nothing too flashy, and preferably something he can wear while he plays sports, but that’s optional.”

“I see!” She scans the cases before her eyes stop at one, and she gestures to a collection of leather bracelets. “What do you think of these? They’re made of real leather but treated to be waterproof, so you don’t have to worry about being careful when you wash your hands or if you sweat during exercise. Any metal pieces are stainless steel, so there’s no risk of rusting with those. And most of them are quite minimalistic, so even stacking them wouldn’t be too showy!”

Iwaizumi presses close to the display case, eyeing each piece critically. He automatically disqualifies the black leather ones, since Oikawa doesn’t like dark colours. That leaves a handful of brown ones, all of varying shades. But none of them catch his eye. They either coil around the wrist too many times or have weird dangly things hanging off of them. His indecision must show on his face, because the girl rifles through the drawers for a bit before pulling out something wrapped in layers of bubble wrap.

“We also have this one!” she tells him, expertly cutting off the tape and unraveling the wrapping. “This just came in today, it’s from one of our most popular artists. All of our leather bracelets are hand-crafted, and each one has a unique design, so maybe you’ll like this one better.”

Iwaizumi makes up his mind as soon as she delicately removes the last piece of bubble wrap. Sitting in her palms is a braided, one-coil bracelet held together by a modest metal clasp. The shade is lighter than the walnut-coloured leather that makes up most of the other brown bracelets. Iwaizumi already knows how it’ll look against Oikawa’s pale skin.

“I’ll take that one,” he says with a grin.

“Yes, sir!”

She pulls out various colours of tissue paper and begins to deftly wrap the box. Iwaizumi happily takes out his card, satisfied and proud of himself for finding something he’s actually happy with. It took an entire evening, but that doesn’t matter. He only realizes it’s already nine-thirty when he glances at his watch by chance.

“Shit,” he hisses, patting around inside his briefcase for his phone. Sure enough, he has a missed call from Oikawa and five new texts.

_Oikawa: iwa chaaannn im done eating want me to bring back anything for u????_

_Oikawa: helloooo_

_Oikawa: okkk u didnt reply in time so ill bring back some udon for u just in case~ we can eat it tmr if uve had dinner already_

_Oikawa: iwa chan where r u??? why arent u at home???? u said u didnt have overtime today_

_Oikawa: r u out w/ someone? u didnt pick up ur phone, text me when ur free ok_

_Me: sorry, fuck, i went out for dinner and forgot i kept my phone on silent. i’ll be back soon_

_Oikawa: IWA CHAAAAAANNNNN U WORRIED MEEEE ok no worries no rush~~_

“Here you go, sir!” Iwaizumi looks up from his phone to see the sales assistant offering him a chic paper bag with the store brand emblazoned tastefully in the corner.

“Thanks for your help today,” he says with a smile, taking the bag from her.

“No problem!”

Iwaizumi turns to leave.

“Oh—uh—wait, sir—”

He turns back to her, eyebrows raised. “Yes?” She blushes and holds out a business card with both hands, gaze averted.

“I-If you’d please,” she says meekly. Iwaizumi takes it and realizes too late what’s happening when he sees her phone number scrawled on the card.

“Oh.” Only now does he take a good look at her. She’s pretty, with a cute button nose and big, brown eyes. Fluffy brown hair. Sort of like Oikawa, in fact. He imagines Oikawa pouting upon learning Iwaizumi got hit on and accepted a phone number and his chest blooms with warmth. He smiles apologetically, sliding the card back across the counter to her. “Thank you. But I’m sorry, I can’t take this. I was actually buying a present for my boyfriend.”

The girl gasps and snatches back the card, holding it to her chest. “Ah, n-no worries! I’m sorry about that!”

“Don’t be. Thanks again.” Iwaizumi inclines his head and leaves. He feels bad for her, but there’s nothing he can do about the sense of fulfillment brimming inside him, making it hard for him to keep from smiling.

* * *

_Day 152._

“Soooo...where are we goin’, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa rocks back and forth in his seat, kicking his legs like some kid excited for a field trip.

“You’ll see,” Iwaizumi says, keeping his eyes on the road. He knows without having to look over that Oikawa’s being all smug.

“By the way,” Oikawa drawls obnoxiously, like the dick he is, “d’you know what day it is today?” He reaches over to poke Iwaizumi’s cheek.

“Friday.”

“Not thaaaat, the date, silly!”

Iwaizumi hums, keeping his smirk at bay. “Was it the nineteenth today...?”

“Noooope, it’s the twentieth!” Oikawa sings, clapping giddily.

“Right.”

“So don’t you have anything to say to me, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi makes a show of wracking his brain. “Oh. Yeah, happy birthday, I guess.”

“WOW, I REALLY FELT THE ENTHUSIASM THERE, VERY SINCERE.”

“Happy birthday,” Iwaizumi says flatly in a louder voice, stretching out an arm to ruffle his hair. “Trashykawa.”

“AH, Iwa-chan, stop!” Oikawa huffs, swatting him away and quickly flattening his palms over his head. “It took me half an hour to make my hair look so perfect, geez. And by the way, I'm just saying, but your acting gets worse every year. I’ll be able to tell when you actually forget my birthday one day, so you should work on that.”

“I thought I did pretty well this year.”

“HA!” Oikawa slaps his thigh. “Yeah, telling me two weeks in advance to ‘clear up my schedule for next Friday huh you’re asking why oh just ‘cause we’re gonna celebrate the weekend, I have no idea what date it is hurhur’ was real subtle.”

“Fine, change of tactic next year,” Iwaizumi declares.

“Whatever floats your boat,” Oikawa sniffs. He presses his face against the window. “Oh, I thought we were going to a restaurant, but I guess not! Is it a bar? A club? I can’t take this suspense.” He bounces a couple times.

“You’ll find out soon enough, idiot. Now sit back and stop blocking my rear view mirrors.”

 

 

 

As soon as Oikawa steps into the VIP room, Kuroo, Bokuto, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa explode in his face with a million confetti cannons and birthday blowers. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!” they screech and before Oikawa can even react, he’s been smacked on the back approximately twenty times and there’s a paper cone hat with a pompom at its tip sitting on his head.

“OH MY GOD, GUYS!” he shrieks, and then whirls around to face Iwaizumi, his hands clasped together and eyes shimmery. “Iwa-chan, you planned a surprise party for me? At my favourite bar??? How did you even manage to get a VIP reservation?????”

Iwaizumi shrugs and slips his hands into his pockets. “I called.”

Hanamaki slinks closer with a cheesy grin and snakes an arm around Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “Six months ago.” Iwaizumi elbows him and accepts the collective judging he can feel from their friends. Oikawa gawks. Without warning, he leaps into Iwaizumi’s arms, Iwaizumi stumbling back and catching him around his thighs.

“What the fu—”

“You’re the best,” Oikawa sniffs into Iwaizumi’s ear, clinging to his shoulders.

Iwaizumi pats him on the back of his neck. “You’re making me feel bad for not doing this kinda thing for your birthday every year,” he teases.

“No! I love spending my birthday with just the two of us in front of the TV! Or at a nice restaurant! Or, like, that one time we went to a haunted house at the amusement park!” Oikawa hugs him tighter. “Every year has been amazing, but it’s just you went to all this effort, so I’m...you know...”

“Uhhhhhhh,” Daichi cuts in, “I don’t mean to interrupt, but—”

Kuroo suddenly pops up beside the pair, face inches from Oikawa’s. “Get a room, you too!” he jeers, chucking confetti at them. Behind him, Bokuto hoots unintelligibly, dancing in a circle, and Iwaizumi wonders if he’s had a couple drinks already. Oikawa reluctantly slides off of him, and as he does, Iwaizumi becomes aware of the rest of the volleyball team gaping at the both of them, but mostly at Oikawa.

“I didn’t know Oikawa had a mode outside of destroy-the-opposing-team and pretend-to-be-a-nice-person,” one of the guys whispers. It makes Iwaizumi’s mouth twitch as he tamps down on what is no doubt a disturbingly wide grin. His limbs feel weightless, watching Oikawa prance around and greet everyone, wrapping Yachi in a hug and high-fiving another worker from the bakery. Even seeing Yamazaki bashfully wish him a happy birthday doesn’t dampen his mood.

...Much.

Daichi sidles up beside him, two beers in hand. “Hey,” he says, offering Iwaizumi one of them. “Long time no see. How are you?”

“Not bad. Work isn’t as busy nowadays. You?”

“Oh, you know.” Daichi smiles wryly and gestures over at Kuroo and Bokuto, who are simultaneously giving Oikawa noogies and dragging him towards an area that was cleared off for a small pile of presents. “Same old. I was surprised when you texted about the surprise party, especially seeing now how many people were able to come. Speaking of, how does Yachi even know Oikawa?”

“They met at a painting class and now he part-times at her family’s bakery. I didn’t have her number, so good thing the bakery’s was listed on Google.”

“Wow. Small world.”

“Yeah.”

Daichi takes a sip of his beer. “So...how’s it going? With Oikawa, I mean.”

For the millionth time that day, Iwaizumi tries not to grin too hard, but he’s not sure he succeeds. “Oh, you heard from him?” he says, careful to keep his voice at its normal cadence. “We’re dating.”

Daichi’s left cheek spasms, and he blinks a couple times. “Oh!” he says, mouth hanging open. “No, I—really! Wow, congratulations!”

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi says. He frowns. “But you didn’t hear from him? I thought by now he would’ve gone around telling the whole world.”

“Ah.” Daichi smiles sheepishly. “Maybe he’s feeling shy about it.”

“Right,” Iwaizumi mumbles. He doesn’t think that’s the case. Oikawa’s not the type to keep good news to himself, especially when it’s something he can be pompous about—and finding out his ten-year love is requited is something to be pompous about, isn’t it? Something to be proud of? Or perhaps Oikawa isn’t as close to Daichi and Kuroo as he comes off?

“Um,” Daichi taps his fingers against his beer bottle. “So how did it happen?”

Iwaizumi glances over at Oikawa, who looks like he’s trying to play matchmaker for a girl from the bakery and one of his teammates, judging by the way he’s leering at them and the two poor souls are blushing so hard Iwaizumi can almost see steam. He snorts. “It’s sort of a long story. I bet the dumbass will want to tell you himself, so I’ll leave it to him.”

 

 

 

Iwaizumi ends up sitting beside Oikawa on one of the leather couches, half listening to him chatter with Bokuto and half concentrating on picking a chicken skewer clean. He didn’t have time after work to grab dinner before kidnapping Oikawa from their apartment and taking him to the bar, so he’s gotten pretty hungry.

He senses someone staring at him and turns to find Oikawa grinning like a creep, Bokuto nowhere to be found. “He went to find Kuro-chan,” Oikawa answers his unspoken question.

“Oh.” Iwaizumi turns his attention back to his third skewer. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“I dunno what you mean.” Oikawa scoots closer but leaves a foot of space between them, then snatches a skewer from Iwaizumi’s plate.

Iwaizumi eyes him. “Why aren’t you drinking?”

“No reason in particular.” Oikawa shrugs. “I just felt like staying clear-headed enough to savour this amazing party that our resident porcupine went to the trouble of preparing for little old me~”

“You’re trash.”

“Rude!” Iwaizumi watches Oikawa chew, his face scrunching up in bliss. “Wow, the food here is so good, it surprises me every time.”

Iwaizumi grunts in agreement. “Don’t eat too much though. There’s cake at home.”

Oikawa’s eyes light up. He inches even closer and his voice trembles when he says, “Could it possibly be...?” Iwaizumi nods once. Oikawa looks around for a moment, then throws his arms around Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “This is the best day of my life.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Iwaizumi pats him on the back. The belated realization that Oikawa was checking to make sure no one was watching before hugging Iwaizumi strikes him as odd.

“I’m gonna go grab you a drink!” Oikawa announces, jumping to his feet. “What do you want?”

“I can go myself.”

“No, no! Oikawa-san insists! And you have to do whatever Oikawa-san wants today, right?”

“Fine,” Iwaizumi smirks. “Just a beer then.”

“Roger!”

He watches Oikawa prance out of the VIP room towards the bar, not bothering to hide his amusement.

 

 

 

Twenty minutes later, Iwaizumi is still waiting for Oikawa to come back. His leg bounces harder under the table as he glances out the doorway and is met with no sign of his idiot boyfriend. Iwaizumi throws back the rest of his water before telling Matsukawa he’s heading for the washroom and getting to his feet. He’s not worried or anything like that. Oikawa can take care of himself, probably. But how long does it take to get a beer, Jesus, it’s not like the bartender even needs to mix that shit.

Iwaizumi heads for the bar, eyes peeled for the moron. He feels himself relax when he sees Oikawa perched on a barstool with Hanamaki beside him, and as the relief gives way, his annoyance rises. He advances towards them, raring to yell at Oikawa a little.

“—going on with you and Iwaizumi,” Hanamaki is saying just as he gets within earshot, and Iwaizumi’s first reaction is to sneak up behind them and jokingly demand why they’re talking shit about him, but something about Oikawa’s face makes him stop in his tracks.

“Nothing.” Oikawa’s gaze slides towards him, aimed at the VIP room, and Iwaizumi reflexively ducks behind a group of businessmen.

“Really,” Hanamaki deadpans. “You sure ‘bout that?”

“Yes,” Oikawa says in that haughty tone of his that means he’s not gonna budge. “Why, did Iwa-chan say something?”

Hanamaki hesitates. “No. It’s just that you guys feel kinda...different lately.”

Oikawa sniffs. “How so?”

“I dunno, the atmosphere? Don’t you think Iwaizumi’s been, like. Well, not softer, since he’s always been soft towards you. But you know what I mean, asshat.”

“Actually, I have zero idea what you’re referring to, Makki. There’s nothing going on between Iwa-chan and me, we are and always will be best friends forever~” Oikawa hops off the stool, waving around a beer, condensation dripping off of it. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Spiky will get mad if I keep him waiting too long, byebye~”

Oikawa marches past Iwaizumi’s hiding place back towards the room, his face neutral. It’s the nonchalance of the expression that unnerves Iwaizumi—he can think of a few reasons why Oikawa wouldn’t want to let the others know they’re dating, such as not wanting to deal with the teasing, or wanting to keep the relationship to themselves during its early stages—but the easy way Oikawa lied about it and brushed it off makes Iwaizumi’s stomach twist.

He finds himself in the bathroom, washing his hands because he couldn't think of anything else to do. The door swings open and shut behind him.

“Hey,” Hanamaki says, sauntering over.

Iwaizumi glances up at him, turning off the tap and flicking water off his hands. “Hey.”

“So...just thought I should let you know, but it came up in conversation and I lied to Oikawa and said I didn’t hear anything from you ‘bout what’s going on between you guys. Since he still seems, I dunno.” Hanamaki scratches his head. “Uncomfortable or something.”

Iwaizumi grunts. “I heard.”

“Oh. Wait, huh? You mean just now?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” Hanamaki rolls his shoulder and sighs. “Well, it’s not like it was a total lie? Both of you are being so damn secretive. You didn’t tell me anything in your own words either, other than your sad attempts at asking for advice.”

Iwaizumi tears off a piece of paper towel, the edges coming off ugly and jagged. “On my end, it was only because Oikawa made it obvious he didn’t want to tell anyone.” He finishes wiping his hands and tosses the paper towel into the garbage. “But it’s been months, I didn’t think he still thought that way.” Iwaizumi’s chest twinges. “I thought he would’ve been happy to tell you guys.”

Hanamaki’s eyes widen. “So it’s something to be happy about, is what you’re saying.”

Iwaizumi lets out a dry laugh. “For me, it is.”

 

 

 

He finds Oikawa back in the VIP room and sits down next to him, the other man holding out his beer with a sheepish smile. “What took you so long,” Iwaizumi grumbles, acting put-out as he takes the bottle. “Slowass.”

“I got caught by Makki~” Oikawa whines, kicking his feet. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“Excuses,” Iwaizumi snorts. He’s resigned himself to not putting too much importance in what he heard earlier. Oikawa has his reasons for doing things, and tonight, on his birthday, is not the day to grill him about them. Still, the hurt clenching around his heart is sizeable, disproportionate to its cause. Iwaizumi gets annoyed often and riled up occasionally, but he rarely gets upset, and the reason this time seems too small, leaving him flustered.

“So,” Oikawa says airily, and Iwaizumi immediately knows that whatever he says next is either going to be important or unimaginably stupid, no in-betweens. “It’s time for me to guess what our lovely Iwa-chan got for my birthday this year!”

Iwaizumi smirks to himself. “Called it.”

“Huh?”

“Just commenting on your stupidity.”

“UHHHH, EXCUSE ME???”

“No present this year.” Iwaizumi shrugs. “Your present’s this party and the cake.”

Oikawa gasps. “I forgot about the cake. What time is it now?” Iwaizumi glances at his wrist.

“Eleven.”

“Wow, eleven!” Oikawa stretches his arms over his head and yawns exaggeratedly. “It’s getting pretty late, isn’t it! Sure was lovely talking to all my friends, but now I’m craving my ca—bed! I meant bed. And not that I don’t appreciate this party, but I just really want some cake. Bed. Okay, fine, I meant cake.”

“You and your sweets.” Iwaizumi shakes his head, but he stands and collects his blazer.

“Ah, let me go say bye to everyone first!” Oikawa flits off to thank everyone for coming, eventually trailing his way out of the room again. Iwaizumi sighs and sits back down, figuring it’ll take the asshole at least a few minutes.

Iwaizumi’s deep into a conversation with Kuroo and Matsukawa about the national team’s latest game when he suddenly remembers he’s supposed to be leaving. It’s eleven-twenty, but Oikawa’s nowhere in sight again.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna head out,” Iwaizumi tells the other two men. “Thanks for coming, by the way.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Kuroo drawls. “Oikawa would give us hell if we didn’t come to his birthday party.”

Matsukawa nods and holds his fist out, which Kuroo bumps. “Pretty much the only reason I came.”

Iwaizumi laughs and slaps them on the back, then bids a few quick goodbyes to the others before exiting the room. Outside, the bar is getting noisier as midnight approaches, people filling up the cozy space. It’s hard to see through the crowd, even if he is taller than the average guy, so he sticks to the wall and slowly circles the premises.

He’s near the washroom when he thinks he hears Oikawa’s voice, so he maneuvers his way towards it. Oikawa is standing there talking to someone Iwaizumi doesn’t know, arms crossed and shoulders tense, though the smile on his face looks relaxed enough.

“Yes,” Oikawa says. “I’m single.”

Iwaizumi freezes.

“Oh, really,” the other man says, obviously relieved. “I saw you talking to a dude with pink hair earlier, so I thought, maybe...”

“No, no, I’m definitely single,” Oikawa tells him, not a single hint of a lie in his expression.

The hurt from earlier curls in Iwaizumi’s stomach, growing and then hardening into a heavy, hot ball. He tears his eyes away from his boyfriend and distances himself from the scene, the thumps of his heartbeat in his ears drowning out everything else. It keeps replaying in his mind, Oikawa insisting to Hanamaki there’s nothing going on between them, and then Oikawa telling some guy who’s hitting on him that he’s single.

Iwaizumi knows, without a doubt, that there is a logical reason for Oikawa to be saying these things.

But in this moment, he’s not sure he wants to hear it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as i mentioned in the beginning, most of the remainder of the story is written and updates will be consistent! thanks for sticking with me! love you ♥


	13. Day 152

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you as always for the amazing feedback!! *ugly crying*

_Day 152._

Iwaizumi’s been weird ever since he came to fetch Oikawa. He’s talking normally and reacting to Oikawa’s quips as he always does, but something about the way he’s got both hands on the wheel instead of one, or the way he hesitates sometimes before responding, like he’s not paying full attention—it rings alarm bells.

During a lull in conversation, Oikawa clears his throat. “So...is something bothering you, Iwa-chan?”

They’re at a stoplight, one that’s only just turned red. There’s no real reason for Iwaizumi to not even glance at Oikawa, but his eyes stay fixed on the road.

“No, I’m fine,” he says. It sounds too flat to be genuine.

Oikawa purses his lips. “Mmm...yeah, no, you’re not. What’s wrong?”

He watches a muscle in Iwaizumi’s jaw jump. “Nothing. Really.”

“What, is it something you can’t tell me?” Oikawa wracks his brain for possibilities. “What could you possibly not tell Oikawa-san...?”

The light turns green and the car lurches forward, making the headrest smack into the back of Oikawa’s head. “Ow!” His hand reflexively goes to the sore spot, but it’s not the pain he’s surprised about. He stares at Iwaizumi, bewildered.

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi hisses, easing off the gas. “Sorry.”

Now Oikawa is absolutely sure there’s something wrong. Iwaizumi is one of the most careful and skillful drivers he knows. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay, spit it out, Iwa-chan. I know you don’t like talking about your problems, but sometimes it helps, y’know.”

Iwaizumi sighs, the sound harsh and grating. It’s clear that he’s not just frustrated, he’s irritated with this conversation, with Oikawa’s needling. Oikawa flinches back, stung by the animosity.

Iwaizumi must notice, because his tone softens when he says, “It’s something small. Don’t worry, okay? We can talk about it tomorrow, but for now, let’s go home and get some cake in you. And I lied about not getting you a present, so look forward to that.” Iwaizumi shoots him an apologetic smile. It’s almost convincing. On any other day, Oikawa would drop it, but how can he, on his birthday? He can’t enjoy himself when Iwaizumi’s upset.

He sits back, picking through his memories of the night, searching for even the most minuscule indication of something going wrong. But he can’t think of a single thing.

Oikawa decides to ask again later, maybe after cake, when Iwaizumi will probably be in a slightly better mood. For now, he’ll let it go and stick to a safe conversation topic.

“Speaking of tonight, I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve relaxed with everyone like this,” Oikawa says brightly, brushing his palms over knees. “Today was so nice.” Iwaizumi visibly relaxes.

“It’s the one day in a year when everyone willingly lets you inflict your presence on them for hours on end,” he monotones.

“Wooow, rude, Iwa-chan! For your information, all my friends love me,” Oikawa sniffs. “In fact, not only my friends,  _everyone_  loves me~ Do you know how many times I got hit on today! Some of them were pretty cute, too, haha! Oikawa-san hasn’t lost his touch yet. We should go to bars more often, it was actually so refreshing to...get...” Oikawa trails off when he catches Iwaizumi’s expression, the calm facade wiped away, his eyebrows scrunched up in a fearsome scowl. His knuckles are white on the wheel. “Iwa-chan...?”

Iwaizumi looks like he’s struggling with himself, lips pressed into a line. With obvious effort, his face slowly evens into neutrality, and he sighs again, but this time, he only sounds tired. “Sorry. I was thinking about something else.”

Oikawa is too shocked to say anything. Iwaizumi never restrains himself like that around him. The sight of his honest, overly blunt best friend fighting to rein in his temper makes Oikawa’s chest ache.

They don’t say much for the rest of the ride home, though Iwaizumi tries to talk. Oikawa is too busy scrambling to figure out what’s going on, mentally combing through each of their interactions again and again. By the time they’re parked in the basement of their building, he still hasn’t figured out a thing.

Iwaizumi turns off the ignition, unclips his seatbelt, and shifts to get out of the car. Oikawa grabs his arm. “Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi stops and turns to face him, reluctance obvious in the slowness of the movement. “What?” he says.

“Um. I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it, but.” Oikawa bites his lip, letting go of Iwaizumi’s sleeve to nervously smooth out his pants. “I really think it’s better if you get it out sooner rather than later? And I can’t help but think I’m the cause, so...I’d rather you tell me now.”

Oikawa looks up at him, waiting with bated breath. The feeble, yellow lighting of the basement takes nothing away from the handsomeness of Iwaizumi’s features, which twist in a way that makes Oikawa want to lash out and destroy whatever is causing Iwaizumi to feel like this.

“Like I said, it’s nothing big,” Iwaizumi says, averting his gaze. “There’s just something I’m curious about.”

“Okay.” Oikawa swallows. “What is it?”

Iwaizumi lets out a long exhale through his nose, shifting to fully face Oikawa. “Why haven’t you told Hanamaki and Matsukawa about us?”

Oikawa’s mouth falls open. This is so far beyond his expectations that he has a hard time wrapping his mind around the question. “What?”

“I heard you tell Hanamaki we were just friends. And that there’s nothing going on between us.” Iwaizumi’s eyes tunnel into his. “We’re dating, aren’t we?”

Oikawa’s mouth opens and closes. His jaw quivers. “Y-Yeah,” he splutters. “I mean, yeah. We are?”

Iwaizumi glares. “Are we or are we not?”

“We are!” Oikawa blurts out, growing defensive.

“So why wouldn’t you tell two of our closest mutual friends?” Iwaizumi growls.

“Because I wanted to keep it to ourselves for a while! I thought it’d be more—precious that way! And I didn’t want to deal with all the teasing...” Oikawa has no choice but to lie. There is no way he could ever tell Iwaizumi it’s because he doesn’t want his friends’ pity after the inevitable end of their fake, contract relationship.

Iwaizumi’s eyes narrow. “All right. Then why did you tell that guy you were single?”

“Wha—who?” Oikawa stammers. “What guy?”

 _“The guy who hit on you!”_ Iwaizumi finally explodes, slamming a fist on the steering wheel. Oikawa jumps with the horn goes off. “You’re telling me keeping our relationship a secret from a stranger makes it more ‘precious’? Or were you worried about getting teased by someone you don’t even know? Don’t fucking lie to me, Oikawa!”

The sound of Iwaizumi’s ragged breathing fills the car. Oikawa sits still as a statue, fingers digging into his jeans, a lump growing in his throat. He doesn’t know what to say. Iwaizumi runs his hands through his hair, squeezing his eyes closed. 

Minutes pass in silence. Every time Oikawa opens his mouth to say something, his voice fails to come out, and he's not sure that's a bad thing because he doesn't know how to fix this. Iwaizumi doesn’t look at him, glare trained on the dashboard, hurt pulling his face down. Oikawa can deal with all the annoyance, all the anger in the world, but not Iwaizumi’s hurt.

“It—because six months,” he manages to stutter out, heart pounding in his chest. “We’re only dating for six months.”

Iwaizumi’s head snap towards him. “What?”

“Because—our agreement. At the beginning.” Oikawa looks away, afraid to see what might be in Iwaizumi’s expression.

“What the fuck are y—” Iwaizumi stops. Oikawa counts the seconds, blood rushing in his ears.

He gets to sixty, and still, Iwaizumi hasn’t said a word. Oikawa gathers up his nerve and peeks at him, but the other man’s face is carefully blank. Iwaizumi says, his voice very low, “Are you saying that from the beginning, you were only planning on dating me for six months?”

“I—I mean—” Oikawa falters. “Yeah, because—”

Iwaizumi’s face crumples.

Oikawa freezes, horrified. What did he say wrong? He doesn’t know what he did, what was so wrong for it to warrant a reaction like this from Iwaizumi?

Iwaizumi’s shoulders slump, his hands hanging limp between his thighs. He says, very quietly, “I thought you loved me.”

Oikawa

stops breathing.

The world around them suspends in place. His head fills with cotton, blocking out his senses.

“Was I wrong?” Iwaizumi asks, his voice sounding oddly muted. He looks up at Oikawa now, reaching over to coax his claw-like grip into loosening, taking a hand in his, rubbing his thumb into Oikawa’s palm.

A telltale stinging starts in Oikawa’s nose and the back of his eyes. “I-Iwa-chan—” he tries, but isn’t able to get anything else out.

Iwaizumi waits.

Oikawa wants to deny it. He doesn’t want Iwaizumi to see this horrible, selfish part of him, the part that thought up an ugly plan of fake-dating in hopes of somehow manipulating his best friend into loving him. He wants to curl up and hide somewhere, disappear so he can forget any of this ever happened.

He wants, so badly, to run. It’d be easy, to wrench his hands from Iwaizumi’s grasp, throw open the car door and run somewhere, anywhere. He wants to turn back time, to five months ago before he lost his mind and brought out that damn PowerPoint, ten years ago before he let himself fall in love, twenty years ago, before he met the skinny, bug-loving boy who’d grow up to be the—the bane of his existence.

But he’s tired of lying, too.

Tears begin sliding down his face and he swipes them away, stupidly, as if that somehow lessens the evidence of his shame. “Wh-who told you?” he whispers.

“No one,” Iwaizumi says. The hand not holding Oikawa’s reaches up and brushes away a fresh tear. “I sort of figured, after...well, after we started dating.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well. I-I didn’t want to tell Makki and Mattsun because they knew about my...feelings,” Oikawa finally admits. “And it was kind of a sticky situation, so...” Iwaizumi hums in understanding, squeezing his hand. “And the stranger was because—I mean, we aren’t _real_ dating.” Oikawa laughs. “Yeah.”

Silence falls between them again, until Iwaizumi says, “Why can’t we?”

Oikawa’s lips tremble. “What?”

“I want to date you for real.” Iwaizumi takes his other hand too, cupping both in his. Oikawa’s head snaps up and he stares, searching the other man’s expression. “I want to date you for real,” Iwaizumi repeats, his voice strong. “I’ve been dating you for real this whole time.”

Oikawa feels lightheaded. He feels like he’s watching this scene from somewhere outside of his body, even though the tears drying on his face are real, and the snot clogging his nose, the way his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth, can’t be anything but real.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says, imploring, determined, his gaze unwavering. “I’m in love with you.”

 

 

Something rises inside Oikawa. Something like panic, hysteria, frustration, anguish.

“Don’t,” he spits, snatching his hands away and shoving himself back against the car door, away from Iwaizumi. He glares. “Don’t say that.”

“Oika—”

Oikawa sneers, and he knows his expression is terrifying and grotesque, but he can’t bring himself to stop. “You think I’d believe that?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widen, his mouth falling open. “Oikawa—”

Oikawa shakes, his lips trembling. “How can you love me now!” he cries, bursting into sobs that wrack his chest, heaving inhales that catch in his throat. He curls in on himself, vision blurring until he can’t see a thing. “You’ve never given me so much as a second glance!”

“How do you want me to explain it?” Iwaizumi asks desperately. “These past few months—I don’t know how to put it into words!”

Oikawa covers his face with his hands and cries. The sobs catch in his throat, making him gasp for breath. He can’t control the whimpers being forced out of his chest, so he presses down harder on his face, trying to keep his pathetic noises to himself, hiding. His whole body is shaking, like the weakling he is. He wants to stop, but he can’t. His chest hurts. Isn’t it unfair, to dangle what he wants so badly in front of him?

“Oikawa...” Iwaizumi touches his arm, but he pulls away. “Don’t cry like that...”

Oikawa turns his back to him. Even now, he still aches with longing, but he can’t stand the contact. He doesn't need pity.

Iwaizumi lets out a shaky sigh and withdraws.

They sit there wordlessly for a long time, and Oikawa doesn’t know what they’re waiting for, or what they’re even doing, to begin with. If his mind were clearer, he’d remember that this isn’t how he wanted it to end, and he’d regret ruining the finale of this whole fake-dating fiasco, but his mind still feels stuffed to the brim with white noise.

He wanted more—a last, light-hearted date before they returned to being friends, and maybe a selfie of the two of them as a memento. Anything. Anything but a fake happy ending where Iwaizumi somehow tricks himself into thinking he’s in love, and Oikawa is left with the responsibility to make him realize it’s not true.

But here they are. Oikawa did it to himself.

Eventually, his crying begins to die down, until he’s left feeling drained and idiotic, eyes swollen and mouth dry. He sniffs, trying not to think, because he knows the tears will return with a vengeance if he does.

But Iwaizumi shatters the illusion of peace. “When you kissed me on the cheek,” he murmurs. “I thought you were cute.” His voice is deep and quiet, but it’s deafening in the silence.

Oikawa goes rigid, jaw tight. He swallows, wiping at his runny nose with his hand. Iwaizumi passes a tissue over Oikawa’s shoulder, and he takes it, dabbing his face.

“I kissed you back because you were the cutest thing,” Iwaizumi continues. “Your face was all scrunched up. Ugly, but cute.”

Oikawa scowls, crushing the tissue in his hand.

“Sawamura said he knew he was in love with Kuroo when he realized he never wanted Kuroo to stop looking at him with love. My feelings are probably similar to that.”

Oikawa laughs bitterly. “You were only curious and happy to receive affection,” he mutters hoarsely. “It could’ve been anyone. It didn’t have to be me.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t respond for a while. Oikawa’s bottom lip quivers and he picks at the skin under his nails, forcing his tears back.

A rustle from behind makes him jolt. “Hey,” Iwaizumi says. “Do you remember Sana? From university?”

Oikawa bristles, glaring hard at an old coffee stain on the car door. “Are you seriously bringing up your ex-girlfriend right now?”

Iwaizumi ignores him. “I thought she was cute. I told you, too, didn’t I.”

“So what,” Oikawa hisses.

“Did I ever say anything about whether she was endearing, though? I didn’t. Because the thought didn’t occur to me.”

“Get to the point.”

“When I said you were cute,” Iwaizumi tells him. “I meant you were endearing. That’s the difference.”

Oikawa's nails dig into his palms. “I don’t get it.”

“It’s the same difference between knowing something is attractive and being attracted to it. Knowing something is cute and actually being endeared are different things.” Iwaizumi breathes out a self-deprecating laugh. “I didn’t even find that out until recently.” Oikawa sniffs, then blows his nose. Iwaizumi sighs. “I’m saying my feelings for Sana don’t measure up to my feelings for you, Tooru.”

Oikawa’s eyes go wide at hearing his given name, the first time in over a decade outside of his pathetic fantasies. Slowly, he turns to face Iwaizumi, a lump forming in his throat again.

Iwaizumi presses his lips together, and it almost looks like a pout. “I was curious, yeah, I’ll give you that. But it had nothing to do with being happy about receiving affection. I started thinking you were endearing, and the feeling got bigger and bigger until it stopped being about any of your reactions and started being about me wanting to—to give more of myself to you. To be in every part of your life.”

Oikawa stares.

“And I want you for myself.” Iwaizumi’s fists clench in his lap. “I want to take care of you and shower you with affection. Fuck, you could call that possessiveness, but isn’t possessiveness part of love? I don’t want anyone other than me to be your number one, but I also don’t want anyone other than you to be mine.”

To his mortification, Oikawa can feel himself begin tearing up again. “Iwa-chan,” he whimpers.

“Shit, don’t cry.” Iwaizumi reaches for him, pain in his eyes. Oikawa lets him, accepting his hug and burying his wet face in his best friend’s neck.

“I just,” Oikawa stammers out. “I don’t get how you can not think of me romantically for our whole lives and—and then this happens.”

Iwaizumi hums, holding him tight. “It’s nothing cliché like ‘I’ve actually loved you my entire life, I just didn’t realize it.’ It was more like a new door opened.”

“Huh?”

“Well." Iwaizumi rubs his chin. "You know how sometimes you read a comic or watch a movie, and you spend the whole time hating the antagonist?”

Oikawa separates himself from Iwaizumi’s neck to stare at him in confusion. “...Yeah...?”

“But then you find out their tragic backstory and start looking at things from a different point of view. As in, you start thinking about the reasoning behind their actions or how they felt as they were doing bad things, and you stop hating them so much.”

“What,” Oikawa says flatly. “Are you comparing me to a comic book villain?”

Iwaizumi groans in exasperation. “You know I’m shit at this sort of thing,” he mutters. “My point is, it’s possible to start seeing people in a different light.”

Oikawa thinks back to one time in university when he got depressed over Iwaizumi getting a girlfriend so he ended up getting drunk at a party and playing spin the bottle. He kissed a close friend he’d met in lecture, a guy he’d never thought about romantically, but afterwards he’d occasionally remember the kiss because it was good, and the friend sort of became attractive to him. Oikawa didn’t give himself the chance to develop deeper feelings for the guy because his head was filled with Iwaizumi, but he thinks he understands Iwaizumi’s point. “Okay...”

“I guess it’s fine if you don’t believe me yet,” Iwaizumi murmurs, stroking the nape of Oikawa’s neck. “You will eventually. I’ll make you believe me.”

Oikawa screws up his face, partly to keep the second-hand embarrassment at bay, partly to squash down the frightening hope blooming in his heart. “How?”

“Nothing special.” Iwaizumi shrugs, smiling with the warmth of a thousand suns. Oikawa’s breath hitches. “’m just going to do whatever I want to do.”

Oikawa bites the inside of his cheek, looking away. He slowly unravels himself from Iwaizumi, sighing at his best friend’s confused and alarmed staring. “It’s too small in here. Let’s get home.”

Iwaizumi follows him out and up the stairs to their apartment, waiting until they’re inside and the door’s locked before he says haltingly, “So...will you...date me?” Oikawa huffs, refusing to dignify the stupid question with an answer, kicking off his shoes and throwing his phone on the end table. He’s happy but also struggling with that happiness, unsure if it’s right or real. It’s not that he wants to make Iwaizumi work for it or anything, God knows he’s belonged to the man since forever, but he can’t figure out how to make himself accept this rapid turn of events.

Iwaizumi doesn’t move from the genkan. “Does that mean you won’t?” he says in a small voice.

Oikawa whirls around, rips off one of his socks, and hurls it at him. “Of course I will, you idiot!”

Iwaizumi brightens only for a bit before his gaze drops to the ground, lips pursing. “Are you mad?”

“No, I—” Oikawa exhales. “I just need some time to wrap my head around all of this.”

Iwaizumi nods slowly.

Oikawa scratches the side of his neck. “Well...I’m gonna go to bed now.”

Iwaizumi’s face falls, but he immediately turns his back to Oikawa and starts pulling his shoes off. “Right, sorry, you must be tired. Don’t forget to ice your eyes, or they’ll hurt tomorrow. I think we still have some of that cooling aloe gel in the bathroom cabinet, so use that after the ice.”

Despite his whirlwind of emotions, Oikawa can’t help his eye-roll. “Yes, mommy Iwa-chan, I know. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Iwaizumi mutters.

 

 

 

Oikawa lies in bed, covers pulled up to his chin despite the warm weather, eyes wide open.

He can’t sleep, but that’s no surprise. Iwaizumi was still up and about when Oikawa finished brushing his teeth and retreated to his room, but now there’s only silence in the apartment, amplifying the cacophony of his thoughts.

Goosebumps race down his spine when the reality of the situation finally sets in. His eyes grow even wider.

Iwaizumi loves him.

His Iwa-chan is in love with him, the guy he’s spent half his life pining after and angsting over like some kind of teenager stuck in his emo phase.

Oikawa shudders, curling tighter in the blankets. Now that he knows, the memories return like a landslide: Iwaizumi watching him with a small, fond smile after kissing him on the cheek; Iwaizumi telling him he has the right to be jealous; Iwaizumi calling for no reason at all when he went to Hokkaido; picking him up at the airport and kissing him against the wall when they got home; sitting down and flipping through photography books with him; meeting him after painting class with his favourite drink; lugging home a picture frame and proudly hanging up his finished canvas; shyly asking if he’d like to sleep together.

The way he kissed Oikawa, sometimes gentle, sometimes like he couldn’t get enough. The way he looked at Oikawa as they lay in the same bed at the onsen inn.

Oikawa rolls on to his side, smothering his face in the pillow and opening his mouth in a silent scream. He was too scared to believe it, but the signs were there all along.

Coldness creeps from his toes up his spine when he recalls what happened tonight. Iwaizumi, despite how hectic his work has been, somehow made the time to plan a surprise party for Oikawa, buy his favourite cake, and find a birthday present. Then, he overhears Oikawa denying a relationship he spent all of his caveman brainpower chewing over before falling into, and gets the feelings that have been growing out of his control scorned. Finally, the target of those feelings has some sort of illogical freak-out about his own feelings being returned, and abandons Iwaizumi to go sleep in his room.

“Holy shit,” Oikawa says under his breath. “Oh my god, my poor Iwa-chan.”

He sits up, grabs his pillow, and before he can lose his nerve, slides out of bed. Then he stands there for a minute, clutching the pillow to his front, butterflies in his stomach and knees slightly weak. But the more he thinks about it, the more remorseful he feels.

“I’m gonna go,” he says to himself, nodding. Iwaizumi wouldn’t be mad at him for going, right?

Step by step, Oikawa pads quietly outside and across the short hallway to Iwaizumi’s room, leaning in to press an ear to the door. When he’s met with silence, he takes a long breath, lets it out, and knocks twice. His hand goes to the doorknob, too afraid to wait for a response, and he twists.

Unlike Oikawa’s own room which has a space-themed nightlight made for children, Iwaizumi’s is pitch-black. Oikawa can’t see a thing, but the sheets rustle as he stands there in the doorway, unsure.

“Oikawa?” Iwaizumi asks, his bedsprings faintly squeaking.

“Sorry, were you asleep?” Oikawa whispers.

“No. What’s wrong?”

Oikawa curls his toes into the carpet, rocking back and forth on his feet. “Nothing, just...do you mind if I...um. Sleep here?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t reply immediately, and Oikawa winces, drawing back, but Iwaizumi clears his throat and says, “I don’t mind.”

Oikawa bites his lip. “Are you sure? It’s no big deal, I don’t have t—”

“Yeah.” The sheets rustle again. “Get over here already.”

Oikawa walks over slowly, careful not to crash into Iwaizumi’s desk and drawers, squinting in the darkness. His legs bump into the bed and he climbs on, dropping his pillow in place and flopping down. He drags the comforter over himself, then frowns when he realizes he can’t feel Iwaizumi’s body heat. So he wiggles his way over, eventually touching what must be Iwaizumi’s arm. The other man flinches. He must be squished against the wall to be so far away.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, finding Iwaizumi’s bicep and gripping tight with both hands. “Sorry for being a psycho today.”

Iwaizumi lets out a long sigh, and all at once, like magic, the tension in the room dissolves. He flips over to face Oikawa and tucks the brunet under his arm. “You didn’t do anything to be sorry for.”

“Yeah, I did,” Oikawa mumbles.

“Nah. I should be sorry for not realizing your feelings earlier.”

“I mean, I did try my best to hide it from you. Before these last few months, anyway...”

Iwaizumi smacks him over the head. “Stop hiding important things from me, you shit,” he growls.

Oikawa’s face warms and he snuggles deeper into Iwaizumi’s chest. “D’you really love me?” he murmurs.

Iwaizumi laughs, the sound bursting out of him like he wasn’t expecting it. “Yeah. God knows why.”

“Wow, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa complains, but he can’t stop smiling. “Way to ruin the mood!”

“Shut up.”

Oikawa digs his nose into Iwaizumi’s shirt petulantly. “So...you’re sure you love me?”

Iwaizumi slips his other arm under Oikawa so that he can hug the brunet with both arms, keeping him close. “I’m sure.”

“Positive?”

“Positive.”

“One-hundred-percent guaranteed, no-take-backsies positive?”

“Yeah, for fuck’s sake—”

“Do you think the cake will still be as good tomorrow?”

Iwaizumi groans like he regrets every decision he’s ever made in his life. “It’ll be amazing, all right?”

“Just checking,” Oikawa whispers cheekily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for readdinnggg ♥♥


	14. Days 153-155

_Day 153._

Iwaizumi wakes up to light piercing straight into his eyeballs from a crack between the curtains, and he groans, rolling over. Only to find that he can’t, from the warm weight anchoring his right arm to the mattress. He blinks a few times, waiting for the ceiling to come into focus, before turning to find an explosion of brown curls on his numb bicep. It reminds him of the hairballs his family cat used to hack out and leave all over the floor.

Iwaizumi snorts. Oikawa would not appreciate that comparison.

The brunet stirs, then yawns, brows scrunching up. It takes a while for his eyelids to peel open, and he blinks slowly, crust dried on his lashes. It’s actually sort of gross, but the way he gradually brightens with realization, then elation, then bashfulness—well, Iwaizumi’s no poet, but it’s nice, to say the least.

Oikawa rolls over to face him, leaving a foot of space between them. The part of Iwaizumi’s arm that he was lying on slowly begins tingling and he knows it’ll be sore later, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“It—” Oikawa croaks, voice cracking. He clears his throat. “It wasn’t a dream, right?”

Iwaizumi grins. “Nah.”

Oikawa beams back at him, cheeks ruddy. “Just making sure, yanno. G’mornin’...boyfriend.”

Iwaizumi flicks him on the nose. “Morning.” Oikawa wrinkles it.

“So...” he trails off.

“What?”

“Are you still sure you love me?” Oikawa says jokingly, but he’s not looking at Iwaizumi, pushing around a piece of lint on the bed.

“Very sure,” Iwaizumi tells him with a smile.

Oikawa beams harder, the whiteness of his teeth blinding in the morning light. “What are we gonna be doing today?”

Iwaizumi shrugs. “Whatever you want.”

“Wellllll,” Oikawa drags out, tapping a finger to his chin. “I was thinking we could eat cake, open my present, snuggle and make out for a bit, and then go to the summer festival in the evening!”

“Sure, I guess.” Iwaizumi leans in to kiss Oikawa, but the latter recoils, horrified.

“Iwa-chan!” he cries, way too loud for so early in the morning. Iwaizumi wonders how he can go from dead weight to loud asshole in such a short period of time. “Relationship rule number one: no kissing before we brush our teeth!”

“What,” Iwaizumi deadpans. “Who gives a fuck about a little morning breath.”

“I do!” Oikawa protests. “My mouth always tastes like something died in it in the morning, and that does not need to be shared with the world.”

“Yeah, well. Your hair looks like something’s died in it too.”

Oikawa gasps, the pitch of it belying his genuine offense. “Ex _cuse_ you, Iwa-chan!”

“I didn’t say it was bad,” Iwaizumi points out with a smirk. He reaches over and runs a hand through the mess, only to find himself stuck. “Wow, it’s not letting me go. Look, your hair’s just as clingy as you.”

Oikawa’s mouth falls open and he blushes, brow furrowing in indignation. “Wh—how _dare_ —okay, relationship rule number two: no making fun of Oikawa-san’s bedhead! I’m sensitive about it!”

Iwaizumi ruffles the tangles between his fingers. “So making fun of your clinginess is okay.”

“IWA-CHAN!”

 

 

 

Oikawa inhales a quarter of the cake for breakfast, making obscene moans the whole time. Then he whines for half an hour about how full he is and how he’s never going to eat processed sugar again, sprawled all over the couch instead of sitting upright, which Iwaizumi decides not to lecture him about because he secretly counts today as an extension of Oikawa’s birthday after the fiasco from last night.

Then Iwaizumi hands him his present, and Oikawa forgets all about his stomach, straightening to eye the logo on the bag in surprise. He delicately peels away the wrapping paper and gasps out loud when the bracelet is revealed. Iwaizumi stays standing behind the couch, arms crossed.

“You know I don’t know shit about fashion, but it’s simple. And water-resistant, so...”

Oikawa looks up at him, his entire face flaming red. Iwaizumi is slightly alarmed.

“Iwa-chan...” Oikawa’s lips wobble a little. “This is so...so...” Dread pools in Iwaizumi’s gut. “Did you pick this for me?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi bites out, feeling his own face warm. “I still have the receipt, it’s no big deal if you—”

“No!” Oikawa cries. “It’s just—this is, like, y’know, the _perfect_ balance of detailed versus simple, and, like, decorative versus practical, and the colour is right up my alley, and honestly, Iwa-chan, who thought you had a bit of fashion sense in you and wow it looks easy to put on too—WAIT, actually, I want you to put it on for me.” He holds out his right hand, puppy-dog eyes glittering. Iwaizumi is too relieved to roll his eyes, so he just takes the bracelet and clasps it around Oikawa’s wrist with a sigh. Oikawa admires it, holding his arm up to the light. He grins at Iwaizumi.

“Thanks, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi grunts, unused to and unsure how to handle the affection and contentedness mounting in his chest.

“Did Makki tell you about the store?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, guess that means I’ll have to thank Makki too, doesn’t it!” Oikawa sings, and prances towards his room to presumably grab his phone. On the way around the couch, he plants a big smooch on Iwaizumi’s lips, brown eyes curved into crescents, warm and gooey. He purses his lip as he pulls away, shy but clearly happy. Iwaizumi’s stomach flips.

Oikawa disappears into his room, and moments later, Iwaizumi hears him shriek, “MAKKI, IWA-CHAN BOUGHT ME A BOYFRIEND BRACELEETTT! OH, AND SPEAKING OF, WE’RE BOYFRIENDS NOW, HAHAHA, JUST THOUGHT YOU SHOULD KNOW!”

“The fuck’s a boyfriend bracelet,” Iwaizumi mutters under his breath, flopping on to the couch.

He listens to them scream at each other for a while, and then Iwaizumi hears Oikawa bid Hanamaki a good lunch before hanging up, but he knows better than to think it’s over yet.

Right on cue, Oikawa screeches, “MATTSUN, IWA-CHAN BOUGHT ME A BOYFRIEND BRACELET AND YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS, RIGHT, THAT’S RIGHT, WE’RE BOYFRIENDS!”

Iwaizumi chokes on a laugh and leans back into the sofa, digging under the cushion for the remote control. He’ll have at least another two hours before Oikawa returns for the making out and cuddling part of his day plan.

 

 

 

“Havana ooo nana~” Oikawa bobs his head, shoulders moving to the beat. “Something something something Havana ooo nana~ Half of my heart? La la la la la la Havana nana—geez, okay, what even are the lyrics.”

“You listen to this song at least once a day,” Iwaizumi points out.

“Yeah, but can you tell what she’s saying half the time? ‘Cause I sure can’t! And it’s not because I’m bad at English, I’m sure you remember my high school grades,” Oikawa sniffs. The supposed frustration of his words doesn’t match the way he’s wiggling in his seat to the beat of the song, and Iwaizumi catches his wide, gleaming grin when he glances over during a red light. Oikawa’s been smiling like that non-stop all day.

It’s a cheesy move, but Iwaizumi takes the wheel with his left hand instead, and rests his right on the console, palm up. It takes a minute for Oikawa to notice, and he lets out an amused huff before sliding a hand into Iwaizumi’s, squeezing tightly. “Awww, does Iwa-chan wanna hold my hand?” he coos, leaning closer. Even in the darkness of evening, Iwaizumi can see out of his periphery that Oikawa’s face is tinged pink. He presses his thumb over a protruding artery on Oikawa’s hand, hard.

“What are you doing?” Oikawa asks.

Iwaizumi smirks. “Trying to stop your blood flow so you die.”

“Wh—WOW, IWA-CHAN, RUDE!” Oikawa tries to snatch his hand back, but Iwaizumi laces their fingers together. “Wow,” Oikawa complains again. “Iwa-chan, you’re such a lady-killer.”

“What.”

“Where’d you learn all these smooth moves, huh?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Playing me like a fiddle.” Oikawa pouts. “No fair.”

Iwaizumi scoffs. “You’re far from a lady.”

“Tha—that’s just an _expression._ ” 

“Uh huh.”

They sit in silence for a bit, the radio still playing softly in the background. It’s moved on to an old English song that sounds vaguely familiar, the woman’s velvety, longing voice tugging at memories Iwaizumi’s mind fails to pull up. Something that fits into his schema of high school summers, nights spent on his bedroom floor doing homework with Oikawa, lyrics they didn’t fully understand crooning from the brunet’s phone.

“Remember that one time you ditched me and Makki and Mattsun to go on a festival date with your girlfriend?” Oikawa says suddenly, and Iwaizumi fast-forwards through high school to his second year of university.

“The one where you guys followed us the whole time?” Iwaizumi chuckles. “Hard to forget.”

“You knew?” Oikawa gasps. “Oh my god, the three of us pretty much swore a blood pact never to bring it up again because Makki and Mattsun thought it was the cringiest thing ever, and I didn’t wanna think about you being on a date with some girl.”

“Sorry,” Iwaizumi murmurs, running his thumb over the back of Oikawa’s hand.

“It’s not like you knew,” Oikawa laughs lightly. “I just remember thinking how nice it’d be if I were the one going on a festival date with you. And how you’d have way more fun with me, obviously.” Oikawa grins, pressing closer. “And now we’re actually doing it! Life sure is unpredictable.”

“Mm.” The car slows to a stop at a four-way, and Iwaizumi takes the chance to lean over and kiss Oikawa on the cheek. “Should’ve worn your yukata. Didn’t you love that thing?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa sighs wistfully. “It’s somewhere back in Miyagi, though. Maybe in my mom’s closet.”

“Next time, then.”

Oikawa grins and wraps himself around Iwaizumi’s arm.

 

 

 

The festival is crowded enough to scream _Tokyo_ but not enough to make Iwaizumi feel like he can’t breathe. There are some families and groups of friends wandering about, though it’s mostly couples, glowy-eyed girls in their brightly coloured yukata sticking close to their equally adoring boyfriends. Oikawa glues himself just as close to Iwaizumi’s side, whining about the people and heat and virtually anything else there is to whine about.

“Iwa-chan, let’s get takoyaki!” he cheers, grabbing Iwaizumi by the elbow and dragging him to one of the shorter lines. “I’m starving and I really need some takoyaki sauce in me right now.”

“You literally just ate half a cake,” Iwaizumi points out.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s cheat day!” Oikawa perks up when he catches sight of another nearby stand. “Oh god, there’s karaage over there! Hnnnggg, I need me some of that too.”

“I’ll go line up for it so we won’t have to wait so long,” Iwaizumi tells him, pulling away, but Oikawa grabs his arm again.

“But it’s boring standing in line by myself,” he pouts. “Waiting a little longer won’t kill us.”

For someone as impatient as Oikawa to concede to standing in line for an extra twenty minutes, it must mean he really, really wants to stay with Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi glares into the distance, fighting the urge to do something that will probably end up with both of them in the tabloids, like stick his tongue down Oikawa’s throat. The brunet lets him go when he’s satisfied Iwaizumi won’t be leaving and starts chattering about the team, a measly inch of space between them.

As Iwaizumi’s busy paying for the takoyaki, he doesn’t notice Oikawa sneak off until the latter returns in a hideous Pikachu mask, the blacks of its eyes taking up a disturbing amount of its face. Iwaizumi opens his mouth, but before he can ridicule Oikawa, another mask is hurriedly snapped around his head.

“What the fuck,” he says through the plastic.

“Awww, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa coos, hands clasped together. “You look so much cuter like this!”

Iwaizumi rips the mask off and stares down at it, dumbfounded by the blank Hello Kitty looking back up at him. “What the fuck,” he repeats.

“Don’t be vulgar!” Oikawa smacks him on the arm. “There are children here! Also, you have an obligation to wear it. It’s the day after my birthday. Which means you have to listen to me.”

“Right, and how long does this birthday grace period last for,” Iwaizumi says flatly, but he slides the mask back over his face. Oikawa pats him on the head.

“Good boy.”

 

 

 

They wander through the festival from front to back, indulging in the typical food and festivities, but really getting caught up in the prize games. Oikawa’s competitiveness makes its appearance at a shooting stand, his impeccable aim earning him two huge nerf guns.

“A gift from Oikawa-san,” he says haughtily, shoving one of them at Iwaizumi. “I’ll even give you permission to shoot at me when I’m annoying you. Not too often, though. Like, maybe once a month.”

“I’ll limit myself to once a day,” Iwaizumi concedes.

The ball-throwing stand is a good place for Iwaizumi to relieve some stress. He studies the positioning of each set of targets before deciding on one he thinks he’ll have the best chance with. With the targets being relatively large, he doesn’t have to put too much energy into aiming, instead winding his arm back for full power. Unlike in shoujo manga, winning the people-sized plushies would be insanely expensive, so he settles for a small Godzilla the size of his head. After the stand owner hands it to him, he thrusts it at Oikawa with a grunt.

“Ewww, Iwa-chan, Godzilla’s your thing, not mine,” Oikawa whines, but takes the plushie anyway, hugging it to his chest. “It’s not even fuzzy!”

“You can use it to replace me when I’m gone for long periods of time.” Iwaizumi means it as a joke, but Oikawa blushes and pouts.

“Whatever,” he mumbles.

 

 

 

As the night draws to a close, Oikawa insists they drive to the nearby riverbank and play with some fireworks ‘cause if he can’t get a big fluffy teddy bear from his love interest like shoujo manga heroines do (“you already have too much shit in your room anyway,” Iwaizumi informs him, but he's ignored), he’s sure as heck gonna dance around the riverbank like one.

“Oh my god,” Oikawa gasps. “Iwa-chan, take a long exposure picture of me! I’ll draw a big heart with the sparkler!”

Iwaizumi pulls out his phone without complaint before he realizes he has no idea how to do that. “What’s long exposure?”

Oikawa groans and marches over, tapping a few things and then returning to his spot. “Now all you gotta do is hold down the capture button!”

Iwaizumi nods. “Go ahead.”

Oikawa lights the sparkler and poses obnoxiously, tongue sticking out, one hand in a piece sign and the other drawing a heart in the air. Iwaizumi clicks his tongue.

“Too slow. Do it again.”

“What? I have to go faster?”

“Yeah, the camera didn’t catch it.”

“Fine, fine,” Oikawa huffs, chucking the sparkler into a nearby garbage can and grabbing a new one. “Ready?” Iwaizumi nods. This time, Oikawa goes faster, and the dark-haired man nods in satisfaction after checking the picture.

“Good.”

Oikawa skips back and peeks over his shoulder at the picture. “Awww, it turned out so nice! So pretty! Iwa-chan, you should totally do it too!”

“I’ll pass.”

“Iwa-chan’s such a boring old man.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now finish the rest of your fireworks before it gets light out.”

“It’s not even midnight yet,” Oikawa whines, but he obediently tears open the rest of the fireworks, the ones they saved for last that fly into the sky and explode like actual fireworks at festivals. He lines them up and lights them all in quick succession. Iwaizumi feels himself smile, watching the colours burst across the night sky. Oikawa shuffles over beside him, mouth open in awe. “Remember that time we went to see the fireworks and you couldn’t come?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says.

“They were pretty, but these lame ones are nicer to look at because Iwa-chan’s here.”

Iwaizumi scowls, face heating. He takes Oikawa’s hand. “You’re disgusting.”

“You love me~” Oikawa sings, grinning at him as the last of the fireworks fizzle out, blue, pink, and purple lighting up his face.

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi leans in to kiss him, and the brunet drags him closer with a happy sound.

When they separate, Oikawa’s eyes are glittering. “Say, Iwa-chan, have you ever had sex in public?”

Iwaizumi recoils, shoving his palm in Oikawa’s face. “You're such a piece of trash, you—”

“I’ll take that as a no.” Oikawa wiggles his eyebrows, unfazed. “Wanna try that tree over there? It looks pretty sturdy.”

“Ha,” Iwaizumi scoffs. “Like you wouldn’t start bitching about the bark scratching your back or the bug that ‘totally fell into my hair!’ the second we got into it.”

Oikawa pouts, pulling something out of the pocket of his shorts. Iwaizumi’s eyes bug out when he sees it’s a travel packet of lube and an entire string of condoms. “But what should I do with these then?” Oikawa says, his fat bottom lip much too tempting. The flutter of his lashes is completely phony, but his eyes smolder with real heat.

Maybe the tree isn’t such a bad idea, Iwaizumi thinks. “’The fuck is wrong with you,” is what his mouth says.

Oikawa slides the stuff back into his pocket, steps into Iwaizumi’s space, and puts both hands on Iwaizumi’s chest. Embarrassingly, Iwaizumi’s heart begins to race.

“Stop the gross face,” he manages. “You’re not gonna seduce me like that.”

“But I think you already are,” Oikawa whispers, sliding his hands up and down. “...Right?”

It’s the flash of insecurity that makes Iwaizumi cave. He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Car,” he compromises.

Oikawa gasps. “Iwa-chan! Do you know how many people are parked in that parking lo—”

“We’ll drive somewhere else, obviously,” Iwaizumi mutters. “Yes or no?”

“Yes!” Oikawa squeezes Iwaizumi’s pecs, his expression way too innocently happy for the context. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and slaps him on the ass.

“Help me clean up the fireworks, then.”

Oikawa plants a last smooch on Iwaizumi’s neck before darting off with the speed of a national star athlete.

God, Iwaizumi can’t wait to throw him down and wreck him.

* * *

_Day 155._

Iwaizumi’s in the middle of putting away the groceries when his phone buzzes in his back pocket. He shuts the refrigerator door and digs it out.

_Oikawa: IWA CHAN I HAVE A MISSION OF THE UTMOST IMPORTANCE FOR U_

Iwaizumi sighs.

_Me: what_

_Oikawa: THERES SOMETHING I GOTTA BUY BUT I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT IT TILLNOW_

_Me: we literally just went to the grocery store_

_Oikawa: i KNOWWWW THATS WHY IM SAYING I FORGOTT PLLLLLLLZZZZZZ IM BEGGING U IWA SAMA I NEED ITTTTTTTTT_

_Me: you can’t get it after practice?_

_Oikawa: NOOOOOOOO THE STORES WILL BE CLOSED BY THE TIME IM DOOONEEE_

_Me: fine goddamnit, what is it_

_Oikawa: the innisfree green tea seed serum :DD_

Iwaizumi can already feel the incoming headache.

_Me: the hell is that_

_Oikawa: its a thing to keep my skin supple and moisturized :)_

_Me: and you have to have it today?_

_Oikawa: yes this is non negotiable :)_

_Me: ..._

_Oikawa: its at the korean skincare place ten minutes from our place u know by pizza hut_

_Oikawa: oh and also since ur dropping by ill send u a lis tof other things i need to replace too THANK U IWA CHAN UR THE BEESTT ILL PAY U BAAACKK OK GOTTA GO CHANGE NOW TEXT ME IF U HAVE QUESTIONS OK ILL CHECK DURING BREAK BYE XO_

Iwaizumi puts his phone on the counter and drags his hands down his face.

 

 

 

It’s obviously not the first time he’s been in the store considering how frequently Oikawa needs to make stops (and drags Iwaizumi with him), but it’s the first time he’s here with the actual need to buy specific things, and he’s in way over his head. The sheer amount of products makes his head spin, and what’s worse is that he knows nothing about them at all. Zero. Zilch.

Iwaizumi clutches the phone in his hand—his beacon—and scrolls through the massive list Oikawa texted him, some strange push-and-pull of hopelessness and determination warring inside him.

A cursory glance of the store reveals that things are sorted by brand, so Iwaizumi grabs a basket and begins to tackle shelf after shelf, typing the disgusting tongue-sticking-out emoji Oikawa uses all the time after each item to mark it off. Sometimes, he misses something from one brand and has to go back, squinting at the shelves before finding it right in front of his eyes.

Half an hour later, he has most of the stuff. It was relatively easy to pinpoint items that Oikawa specifically listed by brand and name, but for a select few, he wrote things like “missha liquid concealer i cant rmb the shade i think 02.” And Iwaizumi would go bumbling over to the Missha shelf, only to find they have about 876247863 concealers and the ones that look like what he might’ve glimpsed Oikawa using before labels their shades with names instead of numbers.

His temples beginning to throb, Iwaizumi shoots Oikawa a text.

_Me: which concealer exactly_

Oikawa calls back within the next minute.

 _“Iwa-chaaann!”_ he cries. _“I’m sorry, I can’t remember the name of it...it’s like, in this tube? With a doe foot applicator!”_

“I don’t know what that is,” Iwaizumi reminds him.

_“Oh! Like...uh...so after you unscrew the cap and pull it off, there’s a stick attached to it, and at the end of the stick you’ll find this weird...angled, fuzzy applicator thing.”_

_Fuzzy_ , Iwaizumi mouths to himself, opening some of the samples, finding brushes on some of them but ‘doe foot applicators’ on most. “They all have the doe foot thing. And are you even sure shade 02’s the right name? Some of them are—like, this series calls them fair and light and this one calls them vanilla and beige and this _other_ one calls them piano and fortissimo, what the fuck—”

_“Errrrrr, I’m actually not one-hun—”_

“Um, excuse me, sir?”

Iwaizumi jumps at the sudden voice behind him, and he whirls around to find one of the sales associates standing there. For a second, he’s worried he’s been in here for too long and they think he’s being a creep or stealing or some shit, but the girl just smiles, almost sheepishly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you sounded like you were having some difficulty. Can I help?”

“Oh,” Iwaizumi says dumbly, feeling his face warm. He holds the phone a little away from his ear so he can ignore what just sounds like Oikawa muttering to himself. “Uh, I’m trying to buy a concealer for someone. He said it’s liquid, has a doe foot applicator, and is called shade 02, probably. He’s not sure.”

“Ah, I believe he might be referring to this one.” The girl holds up one of the sample bottles and opens it up to show him. “The brand recently repackaged and reformulated it, so the shade names are no longer numbers, but names.”

“Oh. Uh, is it still the same thing if it’s been reformulated?”

“Not exactly. Usually, reformulations are ‘new and improved’ versions. Even though customers sometimes prefer the original, we’ve been receiving some very good feedback about this new one,” she explains. “What’s your friend's skin type?”

“Hey, idiot,” Iwaizumi says into his phone. “What’s your skin type?”

 _“Dry as bone!”_ Oikawa responds cheerfully.

“Dry,” Iwaizumi relays. Her smile widens.

“That’s perfect, because this new version is slightly dewier while maintaining its original adherence level, so it might suit your friend even more.”

Iwaizumi has no idea what she just said, but it sounded like a good thing. “Oh. Nice to hear.” She nods, then swatches the stuff on her hand, patting it into her skin.

“Does this look like the right shade? This is the one that corresponds to the former shade 02, it’s called light vanilla now.”

Iwaizumi frowns, thinking hard. “Not sure, but it looks a little light.”

“Does your friend use concealer to cover dark circles? If so, it’s meant to be a little bit lighter than his skin tone, but if not, I’d be happy to show you some darker shades.”

“Oikawa, what do you use concealer for?” Iwaizumi asks again.

_“Dark circles~”_

“Dark circles, he says,” Iwaizumi tells her, before coming to a realization almost forty minutes too late. “Wait, Shittykawa, you’ve been using concealer again?! What the fuck, if you rested and slept like a normal person, you wouldn’t have to!”

 _“Boooo, Iwa-chan, it’s just for emergencies,”_ Oikawa whines. _“Oikawa-san wants to look beautiful all the time!”_

“You look fine, all right. Just sleep earlier. Stop getting distracted and accidentally watching YouTube until three.”

_“Yes, yes, I know. But you still have to get me the concealer! You can’t put it back! I need it, just in case!”_

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “I will, shut up.” He turns to the girl again and finds her with her lips pressed together in a line, cheek twitching like she’s trying valiantly not to laugh. Iwaizumi flushes more. “I-I’ll just take...what was it called again?”

“Ah, light vanilla?”

“Right. That.”

“Of course.” She reaches into the shelf and gives him a new box. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, I think I’ll try to figure out the rest myself. Thanks for your help,” Iwaizumi inclines his head.

“It’s no problem. Take your time, sir.” She walks off and Iwaizumi breathes a tiny sigh of relief. He turns back to the list and glares down at the next unmarked item. “So what did you mean by Innisfree Green Tea Cream?” he demands. “There are at least three different ones.”

 _“What!”_ Oikawa cries. _“I-I can’t remember, last time I bought it, I just went with the one the lady recommended me!”_

Iwaizumi lets out a long, loud exhale. He braces himself, then steps as bravely as he can towards the counter, catching the girl’s attention. “Sorry,” he winces. “I don’t know which Innisfree Green Tea cream he wants.”

 

 

 

By the time Iwaizumi’s at the cash register ringing up the full basket of things, he feels simultaneously like his soul’s been sucked out of him and also like the most knowledgeable, accomplished man on earth. He remembers how some of his friends used to get embarrassed about going to buy things for their girlfriends or moms, like tampons or whatever. And he does understand, to some extent, but he also can’t personally relate because if his mom needs tampons, then who cares, he’ll get her some damn tampons. It's something she needs, like toilet paper. The reason he prefers not to, similarly to how he prefers not to flounce into a skincare store to buy Oikawa all his stuff, isn’t because he thinks it’s some sort of blow to his masculinity—it’s just overwhelming, being surrounded by whole aisles or stores, a whole industry of things he doesn’t have a clue about. And the way people stare and giggle, not to make fun of him, but to coo at ‘how good of a boyfriend he must be’...he doesn’t like it. Because he’s a private guy. Frankly, it’s stupid too, because he’s sure whether a guy makes a good boyfriend extends beyond much deeper things than the question of if he’s willing to buy a tampon.

That said, after today, he thinks he might be more comfortable running a skincare errand for Oikawa the next time. Despite his embarrassing ignorance, everyone was very friendly and patient with him. Oikawa chose a good store to give his business to, Iwaizumi will give him that.

“Oh, we’re actually having a promotion today,” the girl who’s spent probably an hour helping him says. “Since your total exceeds 5000 yen, you have the option for a free gift. You can choose any of these full-size lip tints from our newest collection.”

“Uh.” Iwaizumi has long since hung up, Oikawa having finished his break and forced to go back to practice. “He doesn’t actually use makeup, only skincare and concealer.”

“You can always gift this to someone else. It’s free of charge, after all.”

“Right.” Iwaizumi doesn’t have that many female friends, and giving a lip tint, which seems like some sort of...liquid? Jelly? lipstick to a co-worker seems sort of suggestive. Then he thinks about Yachi and how she’s always gushing with Oikawa about everything. “Sorry, one moment please.” He swipes through his phone, looking for the set of group pictures he took during Oikawa’s birthday party. He finds one of Yachi with decent lighting and shows it to the sales associate. “Would you mind choosing a colour that might suit her? She probably doesn’t like anything too dramatic.”

“Certainly.” She studies the picture, then the line-up of colours before picking one. “This one is a pink-ish colour that’s quite subtle. It’s one of our most popular shades and looks good on all skin tones, but I think it would especially suit her pale skin and blond hair. And it’ll give her lips a juicy shine without being too eye-catching. What do you think?”

Iwaizumi grins. “Perfect.”

He pays for everything and thanks the sales associate profusely. Next time he’s here and the manager has a shift, he should let them know what a gem they have on their team.

Later, while he’s frying some salmon for dinner, Oikawa bursts through the front door, loud enough for Iwaizumi to hear over the sizzling pan.

“Iwa-chan, did you get everything!” Oikawa yells, sliding into the kitchen on socked feet.

“Yeah.”

Oikawa fake-sobs and throws himself against Iwaizumi’s back, wrapping him in a hug. “Thank youuuu. I know it must’ve been tough! I’ll make sure to write down all the names so it'll be easier next time. Not that there will be a next time! Maybe! Hopefully!”

“It’s fine, it was a learning experience.” Iwaizumi smirks. “I got a free lip tint so the miss helped me choose a colour for Yachi. Since you don’t use that stuff.”

Oikawa gasps. “Good idea, Iwa-chan! You’re so smart. And amazing. And just the best.” He nuzzles Iwaizumi’s neck. Iwaizumi pats him on the head, then pokes at the fish with a spatula.

Suddenly, Oikawa goes stiff behind him. “Wait, she wasn’t trying to hit on you, was she!” he cries, right into Iwaizumi’s ear. "Did you tell her you have a boyfriend!"

“No, you idiot.” Iwaizumi elbows him and he lets go with a pained whine. “There was a promotion. And I would've told her immediately if she asked or tried to hit on me, but she didn't, which means she didn't care.”

“Hmph. Fine.” Oikawa goes back to coiling like an octopus around him. “I'm only making sure, yanno, too many shady people in the world!”

Iwaizumi forces down his laugh, not wanting to encourage the brunet’s idiocy. But he lets Oikawa stay, even though one of his arms is restricted by the other man's death grip and makes it hard for Iwaizumi to actually cook.

But whatever. Oikawa won't care if the fish is a little burned, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!!!! :D♥


	15. Days 157-160

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEELLOOOO WELCOME BACK

_Day 157._

Oikawa’s been glued to Iwaizumi’s side whenever he’s not at practice for the past four days, and if Iwaizumi’s being honest, he loves it. Reading Oikawa’s texts during breaks at work keeps him motivated, and having the idiot all happy to see him afterwards is the highlight of his day.

But, as life would have it, four days into the official start of their romantic relationship, he gets sent on a business trip to Miyagi. Granted, only for a couple days, and he’ll get to see his family while he’s there, so his reluctance to go really shouldn’t be as strong as it is.

But it’s hard to leave.

“It’s for two nights, right?” Oikawa pouts as he sees him off at the door, still dressed in his onesie pyjamas. “And you’ll be back on the third morning?”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi rests his suitcase against the wall and spreads his arms. Oikawa immediately tackles him, burying his face in Iwaizumi’s neck. “It’ll be over sooner than you think.”

“No, it won’t,” Oikawa says sullenly.

“Don’t be a brat,” Iwaizumi chides. “Take care of the house.”

“I’m not gonna set the house on fire in the two days you’re gone, Iwa-chan.”

“On the contrary, there was tha—”

“WE DO NOT TALK ABOUT THAT.”

Iwaizumi snorts, stroking his head. “Take care of yourself, too.” Oikawa pats Iwaizumi’s spiky black hair in reciprocation.

“I’m also not gonna set myself on fire in the two days you’re gone, Iwa-chan.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised.”

“WOW, RUDE!”

“By the way,” Iwaizumi remembers, pulling away and holding Oikawa at arm’s length. “I was also thinking, I should tell my parents. About us.”

“Oh.” Oikawa frowns. “It’ll be fine, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, I kinda joked around about telling your parents when I showed you that PowerPoint—” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “—but…I dunno.”

“It’ll be fine. You know how much they love you,” Iwaizumi points out.

Oikawa sighs and goes back to snuggling into him. “Okay, then. Well. Have a safe trip.”

Iwaizumi rubs his back. “That’s usually something you say after the goodbye hug.”

“Five more minutes,” Oikawa whines, wiggling against him. Iwaizumi laughs, grabbing his face so he can kiss those pouty lips. He knows this is something he’ll be missing.

“Such a baby.”

 

 

 

Iwaizumi sits back against the train seat and sighs, tired from having to get up early. He rests his head against the window, watching the scenery pass by. The hustle and bustle of the city is nice, but sometimes it’s relaxing to be back amongst nature. Not to mention nostalgic. He’s always liked playing in the woods, running around, discovering new bugs, catching them and then letting them go. Oikawa would follow him, scared out of his wits but not enough to ever leave. Iwaizumi feels himself smile at the reminder of tiny, pre-school Oikawa.

The neighbourhood hasn’t changed much, and a couple people recognize him as he walks up the familiar path to his house. He waves to one of them and greets the other when she runs up to him and gushes about the “Iwaizumi son growing up so well!”

The key to his old home is sitting in a drawer at home instead of on his keychain, so when he reaches the familiar front door, he knocks. It opens almost immediately, revealing his mom in the flower apron she’s been wearing for the past twenty years. A wave of wistfulness crashes into him as he recalls her patching up the scratches he got from playing outside, and how she stood in the kitchen every morning making bentos for him. Her yelling at him to throw his dirty uniform in the hamper is a sweet memory now.

“Hajime!” she cries, glomping him in a hug. She’s smaller than he remembers, her head barely reaching his chin, but her face is the exact same, warm and open.

“Is that him?” his dad calls from the living room before he appears in the genkan. Iwaizumi grins and waves, the older man doing the same back. His dad looks more aged too, smile lines starting to become visible around his mouth, some extra gray in his hair.

“You should really come home more often, we never get to see you anymore,” his mom scolds, finally releasing him from her death grip and moving aside so he can take his shoes off. “I know work is busy, but it’s important to relax sometimes! You work too hard, anyway.”

“Yes, mom,” Iwaizumi says indulgently, and he means it. “Oikawa says hi too, by the way.”

“Oh, that sweet child! I trust he’s doing well? I’ll have to give him a call after dinner.”

“Yeah, he’s doing great.”

“Wasn’t it his birthday a few days ago?” his dad asks. “Wish him a happy birthday later too.”

“You’re right! I can’t believe I forgot, I must be getting senile in my old age...”

“You were just forgetful to begin with,” Iwaizumi says under his breath. His mom smacks him on the back.

“Shut it, young man. Now go wash up, dinner’s already waiting for you on the table.”

“Yes, yes.”

To his delight, his mom has made all his favourites, a full table of agedashi tofu and karaage and miso soup and everything else he loves in life. He tries to tell her she doesn’t have to next time, but she just shushes him and demands he eat it all. The food tastes like memories. Iwaizumi is sure if Oikawa were here, he’d be warbling about how good of a cook his mom is.

“We see you a lot on TV,” his dad says, mouth twitching the way it does when he’s trying not to glow with pride.

“I was at the supermarket the other day, and Yoshizawa-san, do you remember her? She used to live next door and babysat you sometimes.” Iwaizumi nods. “She was gushing about how big and handsome you’ve become.” His mom reaches over and pats Iwaizumi’s cheek, smiling wide. “You look more and more like your dad every day. I’m sure the ladies are all over you!”

“Stop teasing him,” his dad mutters.

Iwaizumi swallows down his rice, bracing himself. “Uh...speaking of ladies.”

His mom whips her head towards him, eyes sparkling. “What is it? Did you find yourself a nice girl?”

“Not exactly.” Iwaizumi clears his throat and puts his chopsticks down. “I’m actually dating Oikawa now.”

His parents’ eyebrows rise in sync, and they exchange a glance.

“You’re dating Tooru-kun?” his mom echoes.

“Yeah.”

“Is it...serious?”

Iwaizumi frowns. “Of course it’s serious. I wouldn’t just play around with him. Or anyone else.”

“So you...” his mom trails off. “You’re planning on staying with him for the rest of your life? Without marrying?” she clarifies.

“Yeah. I mean, unless gay marriage is legalized, then I’d marry him.”

His parents look at each other again, something loaded in their eyes. “What your mom means,” his dad says slowly. “Is that you won’t be marrying a girl.”

“Yeah.” Dread begins to pool in Iwaizumi’s stomach. “I didn’t think you’d be opposed to this.”

“Hajime,” his mom placates. “It’s not that we’re opposed. We’re just surprised.”

“Why?” Iwaizumi asks. “About which part?”

“Well...” she hesitates. “You’ve had a few girlfriends before, so we thought...maybe you would continue on in that fashion.”

Iwaizumi bites back his exasperation, resisting the urge to run his hands through his hair. “I know we haven’t explicitly discussed my—sexuality before, but I thought you knew how important Oikawa has always been to me.”

“Yes, but—as a friend, Hajime,” his mom says softly. She puts down her chopsticks too and folds her hands on the table. “Tooru-kun is cute and a good person, but he’s a man—”

“Why does that matter?” Iwaizumi cuts in, heat flushing through his body, his heart beginning to pick up in pace. “I thought we were more open-minded than this. You’ve always taught me not to discriminate. He makes me happy, isn’t that what matters the most?”

“Hajime,” his dad cuts in. “This isn’t about us being against homosexuality. It’s about being a minority. We are Japanese, living in Japan, and Japan is not as accepting of people who are different as other countries might be. There’s a rigid structure in society, and while that may not be a good thing, it’s not something we can easily change or ignore.”

“We’re worried about the obstacles you’ll face,” his mom explains, putting a hand on his. For a split second, Iwaizumi thinks about shaking it off. “You love your job so much. Are you willing to throw that away, if something happens?”

Iwaizumi opens his mouth to argue, but his dad shakes his head. “It’s easy to say things like you wouldn’t want to work somewhere that doesn’t accept your relationship. But how do you know other places will? Your options will be limited. Or are you going to change jobs every time someone who doesn’t believe in homosexuality causes trouble for you?”

Iwaizumi’s jaw tightens. He can’t think of anything to say to that.

Frustration boils in his gut. He doesn’t understand how the lighthearted dinner with his family that he was looking forward to suddenly became this. He told Oikawa not to worry because he didn’t think there’d be a need to. A small part of him is hurt; he was looking forward to his parents’ congratulations.

“What about children?” his mom asks quietly. “Do you not want any?”

“Not any time in the near future.” Iwaizumi says firmly. “I have enough on my plate as it is, and honestly, I can’t imagine wanting children unless my partner wants them too.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” his mom says. “When all your friends and coworkers around you are getting married, having kids, and when you’re growing old and don’t have anyone to care for you, you might have regrets.”

“But I might not. And we can adopt, if it’s something we want so much,” Iwaizumi grits out.

“I don’t know if it will be that easy,” she contends. “The adoption process is long and tedious, and we don’t know if any places accept applications from gay couples. Even if they do, in the future, if your children’s classmates find out they have two dads...they’ll have to endure things that no other child has to.”

“Times are changing,” Iwaizumi argues, quickly losing the reins on his temper. “We’re progressing towards better LGBT rights.”

“Are you going to commit to this relationship on the basis of a vague hope that things will get better?”

“Look, I get your point.” Iwaizumi sighs, deciding to end the conversation before he says something nasty that he’ll regret later. “You’re right, maybe I’m being naive. Maybe I’m only hoping. But just as you think that I shouldn’t bet my future on a vague hope, I also don’t think it’s right to throw away something I already know now makes me happy, all because of a vague doubt.”

His parents quiet at that, glancing at each other again grimly. His mom picks up her chopsticks again, forcing a smile. She pats his hand a last time before letting go. “Let’s eat first, hm? Before the food gets cold.”

Iwaizumi nods and makes himself eat, though he’s long since lost his appetite.

* * *

_Day 158._

The next day, as he’s getting ready for bed for his last night at Miyagi, he gets a knock on his door.

“Oh, Hajime, are you sleeping already?” his mom asks.

“Yeah, I have an early train ride tomorrow.” He smiles, but it might come out a little crooked. He was at work all day and didn’t get much of a chance to speak to his parents following their talk the night before. Their reaction left him feeling unbalanced, and he doesn’t know how to react to them when he’s still searching for the best way to explain. To put his emotions aside and convey the way he’s made his decisions up until this point and express how, lately, he’s been the happiest he’s ever been in his life.

“Ah, all right. Is it okay if we talk for a few minutes?”

“Uh, sure.” He scoots over to make room on the bed, and she sits down, lips pressed into a line.

“So your dad and I were talking about it today...and...well, first, promise not to get mad.”

Iwaizumi narrows his eyes. “What is it?”

She bites her lip. “Well, we just think...and this is only a suggestion, so don’t think we’re trying to be the boss of you or anything. But we think it might be a good idea for you to move out for a couple months?”

Iwaizumi feels like he’s been punched in the gut, everything he was getting ready to say flying out of the window. “What?”

“Move out somewhere,” she repeats, then looks down at her hands. “Away from Tooru-kun.”

“But _why_?” Leaving Oikawa to live in their apartment alone and being apart from him, especially now that they’ve finally resolved their issues—

“I think maybe you’ve developed a dependence on him because you’ve known each other and lived together for so long, so not having Tooru-kun in your life seems weird and awful. There might be more out there that you haven’t even thought to look for.”

Iwaizumi just stares at her, speechless.

“We’re not saying we oppose of you and Tooru-kun’s relationship!” she rushes out, waving her hands. “If you feel the biggest amount of happiness with him, then we’ll accept that, and we’ll obviously be happy for you too! But...I think maybe you haven’t had a chance to look for and experience other possible sources of happiness yet. I want you to give yourself that chance. So you can be sure, if nothing else.”

“Mom,” Iwaizumi grits out. “I know you’re trying to help. But this idea doesn’t make any sense. What do you want me to do by moving out, forget about Oikawa and look for someone else? Or do you want me to stay away until I force myself to find someone who makes me happier? Forget about the amount of time it’ll take for that to happen, where’s the guarantee that it will?! This isn’t logical!”

“We are just suggesting,” she says slowly, “you create some space for yourself to be alone. Experience what life is like on your own, unaffected by Tooru-kun. You don’t have to break up with him during this time, but think about your options.”

“I don’t get what options you’re talking about,” Iwaizumi growls, throwing his hands in the air. “Being with a girl? What difference does it make? No girl ever made me feel the way I feel for Oikawa!”  

His mom stares him straight in the eye. “There are a lot of things you need to sit back and really consider, Hajime. The world isn’t such a merciful place, especially because both you and Tooru-kun have some level of fame. In a lot of cases, people can't withstand the pressure. Don’t get Tooru-kun’s hopes up because of a momentary impulse.”

Iwaizumi can feel himself shaking with emotion. Anger at his parents for not understanding and for forcing him into this position, even though he knows they mean well. Frustration at both the situation and himself, because he doesn’t know how to explain. Indignation that his parents, two of the people who know him best in the world, think he’d risk losing the most important friendship in his life for a moment of impulse.

Fear, of hurting Oikawa.

Iwaizumi sits back with a long exhale. He blinks down at his lap, feeling almost winded.

But under his mom’s hopeful, pleading gaze, he can’t help but give in. “I’ll think about it.”

“You know we only want the best for you, Hajime,” his mom says sadly, collecting him in a hug. “And the best for Tooru-kun too, of course.”

“I know,” he mumbles into her shoulder, patting her on the back.

 

 

 

Iwaizumi doesn’t sleep that night, unable to shut down his mind. He replies to Oikawa’s texts as he normally does, but he can’t help the niggling bit of what feels like guilt in the back of his mind.

He thought about all of this already—his work, the problem of having kids, having to hide his relationship from almost everyone outside of his friend circle—from before he began to really fall in love with Oikawa. At that point in time, he already knew this would be a life commitment, because he wasn’t going to answer Oikawa’s feelings if he couldn’t give his best friend all of himself in return. Fine, he didn’t think about it in as much detail, like the things about adoption complications or whatever. But he thinks it’s fair that he didn’t; both he and Oikawa are still in their mid-twenties, and he’s sure many people nowadays don’t start seriously considering that kind of stuff until later.

And after taking everything he could at that moment in time into consideration, he made his decision. There is no doubt in his mind his decision is the right one, even now. What percentage of the world can boast that they found the closest thing to their soulmate, even if he was the slowest asshole to realize it? How many people out there are as sure of him they chose the right person, the person who will continue to be right for the rest of their lives? So why does the fact that he met “the one” early on in his life, or that his right person happens to be the same sex, why do those things somehow mean his happiness is lesser?

Being with Oikawa is unlike any other relationship he’s ever experienced. He doesn’t have to worry about not being himself, he doesn’t have to hide anything, be it small, petty conflicts he has at work or personal insecurities. He doesn’t have to remind himself to be considerate because the things he does for Oikawa, they come naturally. There’s an irrepressible urge in him to _give_. His past girlfriends were roles who fit him, who were suitable for his lifestyle. And while Oikawa may be seamlessly integrated into his life, it’s because Iwaizumi went out of his way to make the largest space there for him. Oikawa’s no role. He’s half of Iwaizumi.

But Iwaizumi is a realistic, logical guy, so he understands where his parents are coming from. He understands the rationale behind their train of thought, and he also knows that that train of thought is something to be expected from ninety-nine percent of Japanese society, as it is.

Most of all, he knows, to make them really understand—or if not understand, then acknowledge his perspective, at the very least—he'll have to force himself into their train of thought. He'll play by their game, and come out the victor.

* * *

_Day 159._

Oikawa felt silly for being all giddy, waiting for Iwaizumi to return early in the morning. It’s only been a couple days, after all, but he’d be lying if he said the time didn’t drag on as he went to practice or lay in bed thinking about how much more fun he’d be having if Iwaizumi were around.

Now, though, he feels like the world’s biggest idiot.

“Wh-what do you mean move out?” he asks, back stiff as a board against the back of the couch. “For how long?”

“Just a few months. Maybe three,” Iwaizumi says, slumping against the opposite end of the sofa, mouth twisted in regret.

“Why?” Oikawa demands. “Because your parents don’t approve of us dating?”

“I told you, it’s not that they don’t approve, they had valid concerns—”

“So your parents say one word and you’re ready to move out.” Oikawa scoffs, desperately clinging to his derision as all his self-doubt surges to the surface, building like a balloon ready to pop. “Okay, I see how it is.”

“Oikawa, you know it’s not like that.” Iwaizumi tries to touch his arm, but Oikawa moves away.

“I thought this relationship was between the two of us,” he says, voice rising. “Why are you deciding everything on your own? Doesn’t my opinion matter?”

“It does, that’s why I’m discussing this with you,” Iwaizumi beseeches. “I won’t move out if you’re really against it, but I think it’ll be a good way to prove to my parents that this is a decision I’m sticking with.”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to prove,” Oikawa sneers. “If they don’t like us being together, we’ll slowly wear them down. We’ll give it some time. Why are you—so quick to want to leave?!”

“It’s not about them not liking it,” Iwaizumi says, voice low. “Do you want kids?”

Oikawa scrunches up his nose. “What?”

“I’m asking if you want kids in the future.”

“Uh, no. I hate kids.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes bore into him. “What if I said I wanted them?”

Something dark and ugly twists in Oikawa’s chest. His mouth quivers. “W-we can adopt.”

“But it’s not that easy. Everyone knows it’s not that easy. I was studying adoption processes all of last night, and it’s complicated, the possibility is so low—” Iwaizumi stops. “Let me make this clear: I’m not saying I want kids. The adoption thing is just to prove a point. I’m saying, everyone around us thinks these obstacles we’ll face from being in a same-sex relationship are things that will somehow...give us regrets in the future. And I see their point because it’ll be hard. Things aren’t so simple, it’s not responsible to say ‘we can just adopt’ when we haven’t thought about those difficulties.”

Iwaizumi sits up straight, hands on his knees. “But, even after thinking hard about the things we’ll have to face and adoption and all that, it was obvious you were more important. A thousand times more important. I want to prove to them that you and me, we’re more than those possible risks, do you get that? It doesn’t matter to me what other people think, but...” Iwaizumi sighs. “I don’t want to worry my parents. I want them to know there isn’t a better option for me.”

Oikawa pulls his knees up and presses his face into them, hugging his legs. This, here, is all of his fears realized. For him, the choice is easy: he’s been attracted to maybe half a girl in his entire life, but if he or his parents really wanted him to settle down with a nice one, he could do it. Pop out a kid or two. They’d be a happy family, but he probably couldn’t love her romantically.

Iwaizumi, on the other hand, could truly love a girl if he wanted to. And now, Oikawa has to face the consequences of the choices he’s made these past few months. Some tiny, hidden portion of himself knows he had it coming, but he didn't think it'd be so soon.

Oikawa’s afraid, but still, he brings himself to mumble, “Why do you sound so sure, though.” He feels Iwaizumi shift closer to him on the couch, their feet touching.

“Sure about what?”

“You went from looking for a fling on Tinder to ‘falling in love’ with me in the span of five months.” Oikawa looks up, glaring at him. “There’s no way you’re sure about me.”

Iwaizumi simply says, “I am.”

“Stop s—”

“Just because it took a while for my feelings to come out, doesn’t mean they’re any less real or permanent,” Iwaizumi admonishes. “I know it’s only been a few months, but you haven’t given me a chance to prove how I feel. Or grow into it.”

Oikawa’s chin wobbles. To his shame, his eyes begin to water. “I-I know it’s not fair. But I’m scared. I can’t be sure you won’t change your mind in a few months.”

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi breathes, leaning into him, cupping his face in his palms. “I’m an asshole for asking you for this favor, but it’d make me happy if you could trust me.”

Oikawa hiccups on a sob. “Do you love me?”

“I do,” Iwaizumi says, kissing him once on each eyelid, collecting the tears with his thumbs.

“Y-you say you’re sure now, and I’ll believe that. But, reality is—” Oikawa looks down, keeping his gaze on his feet. “If, for some reason, I wasn’t a part of your life anymore...l-like if we broke up, or if I died...you would move on. Because that’s what people do! You could find someone else to love, a girl! It doesn’t _have_ to be me!”

Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything for a long moment. His thumbs continue to brush away Oikawa’s tears, like reflex. “You know,” he says at length. “Another reason my parents think we’re dating is because they believe we’ve grown dependent on each other.”

Oikawa sniffs. “You mean, like, being with each other is the status quo?”

“Yeah. Like dating you was just the easiest option or something.”

That didn’t even occur to Oikawa. His heart sinks. “Oh.”

“That’s why I was thinking, moving out would also show them I can live just fine without you.” Iwaizumi sighs, letting him go and running his hands through his own hair. “Even though I know it’s a reasonable concern to have, a part of me thinks you and my parents are all getting too caught up on hypothetical situations. Obviously, I can live without you. And you might cry for a bit, but you can live without me too. The point is that we’re choosing each other. I’m choosing _you_.”

Oikawa frowns, keeping silent.

“What I mean is,” Iwaizumi leans in and pinches both his cheeks, tugging them up and down. “I’m not with you because of routine or convenience. Both of us, we can go to work and eat out with friends and enjoy quiet time at home without each other, and be happy and shit. But that happiness would never measure up to the amount of happiness I get from being with you. Okay, bastard?”

Oikawa’s lips wobble, the tears coming out anew. Iwaizumi just wipes them away again, patient as ever.

“I make room for you in my life, not because I need you to survive, but because I want you there,” Iwaizumi murmurs, stroking his face. “Because you’re my—my comfort, and. Excitement in life. My ketchup and mustard and relish, right?” He chuckles. “Must be something wrong with me because a trashlord like you makes me happier than anyone. And I want, more than anything else, to make _you_ happy. Despite your trashiness.”

Oikawa chokes on his tears, staring into Iwaizumi’s dark, sincere eyes. It’s too much sap for the both of them, especially coming from Iwaizumi, whose face gradually darkens as his words sink in. But Oikawa needed to hear it.

“Thank you, Iwa-chan,” he weeps, wrapping himself around Iwaizumi.

“Don’t thank me,” Iwaizumi laments, though there's a smile in his voice. “Nothing to thank me for.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too, moron.”

* * *

_Day 160._

The next day, Iwaizumi begins to pack his stuff. Oikawa’s stuck between wanting to pretend not to see and feeling bad about not helping. He leans against the door jamb of Iwaizumi’s room, watching as the other man folds a pile of his work shirts on his bed, careful they don’t wrinkle.

“Anything you need help with?” Oikawa asks, folding his arms over his chest.

“Nah,” Iwaizumi says. “I’m only packing some clothes and toiletries. I’ll be coming back soon anyway.”

Three months isn’t soon, Oikawa wants to say. It’s a month longer than summer vacation. It’s nearly a whole season. Thirty times longer than what Iwaizumi spent away in Miyagi, and that alone felt like torture. Besides, despite the reassurances, the trust he has for Iwaizumi...the possibility his best friend won’t come back isn’t zero.

At the lack of response, Iwaizumi glances up. One look at Oikawa’s face and he drops the shirt he’s holding, mouth yanked into a scowl. He holds out one arm, motioning for Oikawa to come closer.

Oikawa pushes off the door frame and approaches, and when he’s close enough, Iwaizumi grabs his arm and tugs, hard. The brunet yelps and falls forward into him, legs tripping on to the bed. Iwaizumi catches him, hugging him tight against his chest.

“I’ll be back soon,” he says fiercely. “Time will pass before you know it.”

Oikawa curls his fingers into the back of Iwaizumi’s t-shirt and nods.

“’nd then I’m gonna spend the rest of my life proving to both my parents and you how wrong you all are for doubting me. Goddamn." Oikawa lets out a wobbly laugh and buries his face in Iwaizumi’s neck.

“I’ll be counting on you then, Iwa-chan.”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi squeezes him tight.

Oikawa sighs, partly in relief, partly in resignation. “You can’t take Godzilla with you, by the way,” he mumbles into Iwaizumi’s shoulder. Iwaizumi’s chest moves with a suppressed laugh.

“Why the hell would I? It’s yours.”

“I’m just telling you up-front that he’s gonna become my new Iwa-chan.”

“What, trying to replace me already?” Iwaizumi drawls. “You sure move on fast.”

“No, but if you don’t come back soon, I might,” Oikawa quips. “He’s nicer than you anyway, less spiky and everything.”

“You like my spikes, bastard,” Iwaizumi grumbles. Oikawa lets out a real laugh at that.

“I guess you wouldn’t be my Iwa-chan without spikes.”

“And you wouldn’t be Shittykawa without your shittyness.”

“WOW, IWA-CHAN, WOW, REAL MATURE.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading!! would love to hear what u think ♥


	16. Days 168-175

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u enjoy ♥

_Day 168._

A little over a week later, Iwaizumi moves out to an empty place in the company dorms.

Oikawa’s spent a lot of time thinking about their options and the resulting paths, rolling their conversation through his mind. He knows they made a good decision, one that suits them. He’d die of heartbreak if Iwaizumi realized someday that he wanted a cute girl instead, so realistically, doing this now is the best option. But that doesn’t mean the situation doesn't suck a little.

Though, admittedly, he’s not sure how effective moving out for three months serves as proof Iwaizumi won’t someday change his mind. Who knows how he’ll feel in five, ten, twenty years? And on that note, who knows how Oikawa will also change during that time period? But even with that, he still believes it isn’t a bad idea to separate for a while; they’ve never spent more than a few weeks apart since they met, so although no one can predict what’ll happen in the future, at least they’re getting a chance to clear their minds and evaluate themselves as individuals, away from one another.

When their friends find out either through him or Iwaizumi or both, some of them understand, but some seem puzzled.

“You know, Iwaizumi was practically brimming with pride when he told me you two were dating,” Daichi divulges when he comes over for coffee one day. “You were so happy together, why do you have to place so much importance in what his parents said?”

“That's what I said at first too,” Oikawa whines, flopped over the couch. “But when I calmed down and actually listened to what Iwa-chan was saying, I got his point. We’re not doing this because his parents said something, it’s because what they said was true.”

Daichi hums in sympathy. “Fair enough. I still keep my relationship a secret from most of my co-workers.”

“Yeah.”

“What if,” Daichi hesitates. “What if his parents never agree?”

Oikawa taps his chin, sucking on the insides of his cheeks. “Hmm, that would make me sad, but I don’t think Iwa-chan and I would let them affect us past a certain point, if that makes sense? We spent all of last week before he moved out talking about what they said and what we’re gonna do, and…I dunno, maybe I’m being too hopeful, but it really doesn’t sound like they’re opposed to us because they have a _personal_ thing against same-sex relationships. Can’t blame 'em for being worried about their son, after all.”

“That’s shockingly mature of you,” Daichi notes dryly.

Oikawa smiles, thinking back to high school. “I can't remember if I've ever told you this, but I came out to my parents when I was eighteen. I told Iwa-chan to tell his too because even though I was _so_ scared they wouldn’t like me anymore, I didn’t want them to find out later and be like 'ew, what the heck!'”

Daichi hisses out a breath through his teeth. “What’d they say?”

“After Iwa-chan told them, I think it was during dinner, Iwa-chan's dad came to our house to fetch me. We went to the Iwaizumis' and he spent half the night playing Mario Kart with me, and then when we were done, he pat me awkwardly on the shoulder and told me I was welcome any time. His mom baked me milk bread as we played and gave me a lesson on how to not get played by 'bad boys.'" Oikawa's heart squeezes at the memory, his face warming. “I cried when I got home. So I get it, you know? I do. Who’d want their kid to have to go through that kinda discrimination if they don’t have to?”

Oikawa jumps when he hears sniffling, turning to find Daichi's eyes red-rimmed. “Dai-chan, what!” he cries.

“Sorry,” Daichi says wetly. “It just reminded me of how well my parents reacted when I told them too. We're real lucky, huh?”

“Sure are,” Oikawa says, laughing at Daichi's puckered up face. “D’you need a tissue??”

“No, no,” Daichi waves him off, sniffing a last few times. “Aahhh, geez, the older I get, the easier the tears come," he grieves, rubbing his eyes. "But anyway, back to the subject, I’m surprised you agreed so soon to Iwaizumi moving out.”

Oikawa barks out a laugh. “It wasn’t easy! But…Iwa-chan does so much for me. I’m willing to bet you alllll the money in my bank account that to this moment he still thinks he, like, took advantage and made me agree with him. He’s always killing himself over how to not hurt my feelings but it ends up with me feeling—underestimated? I’m capable of making my own decisions!” Oikawa thumps a fist on his chest. “I’m a big boy! A clingy one, but still!”

Daichi chuckles. “Do you think maybe another reason you agreed is because you’re curious how you’ll get by without Iwaizumi?”

“Ahaha, Dai-chan, you’re too smart~ Yeah…” Oikawa struggles off the couch, sliding on to the floor and wiggling until his head is in Daichi's lap. “People say sleep is death without the commitment, right? This separation is pretty much getting to feel what it’s like to be alone but without the commitment!”

“I don’t think that's how that metaphor works, but whatever floats your boat,” Daichi says flatly, flicking Oikawa on the forehead.

“Yeah, well. I gotta know what it’s like to be alone to have even more appreciation for Iwa-chan!”

“Okay, fine,” Daichi sighs. “But don't forget, you have all of us too.”

“I know, Dai-chan. I have the best friends.” Oikawa wipes away a fake tear.

“I take it back.”

“HEY!”

 

 

 

It occurs to Oikawa as he's brushing his teeth that night: he didn’t even get to live out the full six months of their contract. Preposterous. He should sue or at least get some monetary compensation or something. Instead, he got five months’ worth of memories that make his heart ache, make him want to trash the house and leave the country and start afresh as a fisherman or something.

And speaking of the apartment...well, Iwaizumi left most of his things, obviously. But the place feels empty, all the same. Oikawa keeps the lights on in almost every room whenever he’s home, but it doesn’t help much.

Though shutting them all off on his own is worse. He takes a look around the dark living room, then shuffles back to his bedroom, the door closing behind him with a quiet click.

* * *

_Day 169._

Oikawa dedicates most of his time to practice or part-timing at the bakery now. An upside to the whole mess is he gets to bring home lots of baked goods, so he doesn’t have to worry much about making breakfast. He’ll have to be careful about balance though, in case his coach gets on his case about diet again.

Oikawa sighs, one hand pulling out a tray of buns from the industrial oven, one hand checking his phone, only to find it free of notifications. It’s to be expected; he was the one who suggested keeping minimal contact with Iwaizumi, so that they can really ‘appreciate’ life without the other. Or maybe he’s a masochist.

Okay, fine, he just wanted Iwaizumi to feel as sad and lonely as he does. Sorry he’s petty, all right?

“You okay?” Yamazaki asks as he squeezes by behind Oikawa with a huge ball of dough. “You’ve been sighing a lot lately.”

“Eh, it’s nothing.” Oikawa slips his phone back into his pocket and pulls his gloves on. “Just a mood, it’ll pass.”

“Ah.”

They work in silence for a bit, Yamazaki rolling and shaping his dough into croissants and Oikawa swiping egg mixture over a batch of red-bean buns. The doors swing open and Yachi appears with a wide grin, a hand on her hip.

“Hi guys! Anyone need a break? We’re pretty slow right now!”

“Nah, I’m good, thanks, Yacchan.”

“Same.”

“Okay! Let me know if you get tired!” She grabs the broom and pops back out to the front. Oikawa returns to his buns, mind drifting back to the many heartfelt conversations he had with Iwaizumi what seems like forever ago. There’s nothing left to analyze, with Iwaizumi making his intentions and motivations so clear. And Oikawa’s not only accepted the consequences of their mutual choice, he's also gained new insight from getting to talk it out. But lately, there hasn’t been much in his life other than that to think about, so every time he starts zoning out, he begins poring over every word between them, as he’s prone to do.

Yamazaki clears his throat and Oikawa looks up to find the other man wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm. He really is quite good-looking, in a rather old-fashioned way. And he’s Oikawa’s type too, tall, dark, handsome. Buff, and snarky when he feels like it.

“Say, Oikawa-san...”

“Hmm?”

Yamazaki squints down at his perfectly shaped croissant. “I was just wondering...are you free on Saturday?”

“Saturday?” Oikawa hums. “I have practice in the daytime, but I should be free in the evening. Why, what’s up?”

“Uh, I was just thinking maybe we could grab a drink?” Yamazaki asks haltingly.

“Oh, sure.” Oikawa stares off into the distance. “Yeah, a drink would be cool, I could use one.”

“R-really? Good, that’s—great.”

“Mm-hm. Oh, I’ll go ask Yacchan if she wants to come too! She was saying how she wanted to go to that new bar downtown.” Oikawa heads outside and spots Yachi sweeping in a corner. “Hey, Yacchan, wanna go to that new bar in downtown on Saturday? Yama-chan’s coming too!”

“Oh my gosh, yes!” she squeals. “A night out for our bakery team!”

Oikawa throws her a thumbs up and a wink and skips to the back. “Yacchan said she’s free too. Woot, time to party!” To his confusion, Yamazaki’s making a face like he just bit into a lemon. “What’s wrong, Yama-chan? Oh, did you want to go somewhere else? Sorry, I shoulda asked you first!”

“No, it’s nothing,” Yamazaki mutters, head down. “Looking forward to it.”

“Me too~ By the way, how’re your new creations coming along?”

“The matcha green puffs? Fine, it’s not like they’re that different from original flavour.”

“You should totally bring some for us to try next time,” Oikawa suggests, waggling his eyebrows. “And also an extra ten boxes for Makki.”

“Ah, your cream puff friend,” Yamazaki snorts.

Oikawa chokes on a cackle. “Is that how you remember him?! I’m gonna call him that from now on. My Cream Puff Friend.”

“Actually, if you and Hanamaki-san would like to come over one day, I wouldn’t mind making a batch. I’ve been wanting to try other flavours like mango and chocolate too. Yachi-san is also welcome, of course.”

“Oh my god, yes,” Oikawa gasps. “I’m gonna text him now.” Yamazaki gives one of his rare smiles, soft and subtle.

* * *

_Day 174._

One day, Hanamaki calls him as he’s lying in bed after his shower, browsing through his favourite drama channels on YouTube.

“Hi, Makki,” Oikawa greets, “what’s up, how’s life?”

 _“Heeeey,”_ Hanamaki drawls. _“Same old, you know how it is. How’s Yamazaki?”_

Oikawa is immediately suspicious. “Why’re you asking about Yama-chan?”

_“I mean, it’s not like I have his number so I have to ask about him through you.”_

“My point is why do you care??”

 _“Oh, please.”_ Hanamaki sighs like a love-sick maiden. _“Who wouldn’t be concerned about the happenings of our hottest resident cream puff maker? He’s such a dream. Everything I want in a man.”_

“So, basically, someone who’s hot and feeds you.”

_“Precisely.”_

_“Is that what I am to you,”_ Oikawa hears faintly on the other line.

 _“Hush, us adults are talking,”_ Hanamaki says dismissively, and Oikawa grins, kicking his legs in the air.

“In that case, would you like me to give you Yama-chan’s number?” he taunts, already knowing what the answer will be.

 _“Nah,”_ Hanamaki replies blandly. _“Mattsun will get jealou—ah, hey, what’re you—”_

 _“He says that but the real reason is because he’s too smitten with me to think about anyone else,”_ Matsukawa says into the phone, smirk in his voice.

 _“Ugh, whatever,”_ Hanamaki says, not even bothering to deny it.

“You guys are so gross, I don’t need this in my life right now,” Oikawa whines.

_“Right, that reminds me, I actually had a reason for calling. Just wanted to check how you’re doin’ without your beloved Iwa-chan.”_

Oikawa groans. “Why do you have to rub salt in my wounds like this, you dirty traitor.”

_“Hurhur. Okay, but for real, how’re you doing?”_

“Fine, I guess,” Oikawa allows. He thinks back to how Iwaizumi said they could both live fine without the other person. At the time, he thought that was only Iwaizumi’s one-sided opinion, but now he can relate to the sentiment on an intimate level—because he _is_ doing fine. He misses bantering with Iwaizumi and eating with him and lying around on the couch with both feet crushed under the other’s butt, and he feels sort of lonely in a vague sense. But the days pass as they always have, and Oikawa’s not lying in a ditch somewhere praying for death. He can imagine, now, how things would be if Iwaizumi were out of his life forever. Oikawa would cry and mope and mourn, and life would feel different without him. But Oikawa would move on.

...Probably. Give him a good ten or so years.

_“Well, that’s good to hear. ‘Cause it makes it easier for me to tell you that I’m sending Iwaizumi to a goukon.”_

Oikawa immediately shoots up. “What?!”

 _“Yeah...”_ Hanamaki laughs sheepishly. _“Well, I heard more about your whole situation from Iwaizumi, right, and I was like, why don’t you go to a goukon and chat up some cute girls, y’know, remind yourself how much more fun you have with Oikawa and all that jazz.”_

“Makki!” Oikawa yells.

_“Listen. I knew you’d probably be pissed, but it’s really no harm done. It’ll be like a normal drinking party, no exchanging personal numbers, no sending anyone home except for maybe calling a taxi for the—”_

“And he just—said yes?” Oikawa demands, voice pitching towards a shriek.

 _“’Course not,”_ Hanamaki says, his tone becoming uncharacteristically serious. _“What, did you think he’d jump on the chance to go on a goukon or something?”_ Oikawa bites the inside of his cheek and picks at the skin of his cuticles. _“You should know better, my friend. Iwaizumi wouldn’t do that.”_

“So is he...not going then?” Oikawa asks, a headache building in his temples.

 _“Oh, I’m gonna make him,”_ Hanamaki replies cheerfully. _“You know Hatsubashi-san, right? Well, his daughter’s my friend so I invited her too and now Hatsubashi-san’s all like 'Iwaizumi-san please go with her she’ll totally get snatched up by some horrible man please Iwaizumi-san I can only count on you.'”_

Oikawa remembers this Hatsubashi-san. He was the boss who made sure Iwaizumi got his days off when he was sick, and also gave Iwaizumi his extended leave so that the two of them could go on their onsen trip. It’ll be hard for Iwaizumi to refuse.

 _“Oh, but most importantly,”_ Hanamaki continues, _“Iwaizumi owes me a favour and I was the one who arranged this goukon but we were a little short on guys, y’see, so I have no choice but to blackm—”_

Oikawa hangs up.

 

 

 

Later that night, he gets a string of texts.

_Makki: im sorry bro_

_Makki: didnt mean to upset u ok_

_Makki: u kno i only did it bc i have so much faith in ur relatioship_

Oikawa punches a pillow, still too mad to reply. Then his phone starts pinging again, and he's ready to rip Hanamaki a new one until he sees who the sender is.

_Iwa-chan: oikawa, hanamaki asked me to go to a goukon but i’m not going_

_Iwa-chan: he begged on his knees but fuck him. how does he even know hatsubashi-san’s daughter, that dirty bastard_

_Iwa-chan: on second thought, why’s he arranging a goukon for people when he has matsukawa_

_Iwa-chan: but anyway, i’m not going, that’s final_

_Iwa-chan: just thought i should let you know_

_Iwa-chan: goodnight_

Oikawa chews on his lip, rolling it back and forth between his teeth until it hurts. Bitterness and guilt well up in his chest. _it doesnt bother me so go_ , he sends, and then he turns his phone off, flings it somewhere on the floor, and curls up under the covers.

* * *

_Day 175._

Oikawa waits as Yachi locks the door behind her, hands in his shorts, blowing his bangs out of his face. He feels like temperatures in August shouldn’t be so hot, but then he remembers it’s Tokyo, and yeah, it’s always this hot.

“It’s warm today,” Yamazaki notes, pulling at the collar of his shirt and attempting to air it out. “I hope the new bar has AC installed already.”

Yachi suddenly gasps, whirling around. “Oh no, we were supposed to go to the bar today!”

“Did you forget?” Oikawa teases.

“Yes, I’m so sorry, it completely slipped my mind!” She waves her arms frantically. “Actually, my cat’s been acting weird these last few days and I was thinking of taking her to the vet this evening, so I might have to duck out this time, I’m sorry!”

“Hey, hey, Yacchan, take a deep breath. Don’t worry about it, we can just reschedule!” Oikawa hip-checks her. “No big deal!”

“We don’t have to cancel entirely,” Yamazaki says quickly. “But Yachi-san can join us next time?”

“Oh, sure, that’s a great idea!” Yachi nods, head bouncing up and down at a disturbing speed. “You two gentlemen enjoy yourselves, don’t go home on my account!”

“I guess we could still go,” Oikawa decides with a shrug. “I do kinda need a drink.”

“Great, that’s settled! Excuse me for tonight then!” Yachi throws a hand up in a wave before racing down the street.

“Wow, her cat must really be having a hard time,” Oikawa comments. “Well, let’s go then, Yama-chan?”

Yamazaki nods. His face looks almost fever-pink. Oikawa wonders if maybe the heat’s getting to his head. “It’s this way,” Yamazaki says, gesturing for Oikawa to follow. “I’ve been in the area before.”

“Oh good, you lead the way then. I’m hopeless when it comes to directions.”

“Really?” Yamazaki raises a brow. “For some reason, I was under the impression you were the type to always know where you were going.”

“Nah,” Oikawa laughs. “I’m totally the person that gets mad when your GPS tells you to go south, because, hello, how am I supposed to know which way south is?”

“Ah.” Yamazaki’s lips quirk up. “I get that.”

“See, I knew there was a reason we got along so well, Yama-chan!” Oikawa exclaims, slapping him on the back. “Isn’t it just the dumbest! What’s so hard about telling you to go left or right!”

“Yeah,” Yamazaki agrees.

He doesn’t add any more to the conversation and Oikawa hums lightly, not minding the bit of silence, glancing around at the shops.

“So, uh...” Yamazaki coughs. “How’s volleyball practice been?”

Oikawa looks at him for a moment, wrinkling his nose when he realizes why that sentence sounded funny. “Yama-chan, are you trying to make small-talk?” he snort-laughs. “That’s so unlike you!”

“No, I was—” Yamazaki blushes. “I’m actually curious about your volleyball practice! I used to play a bit myself back in university, but I stopped to prioritize my studies.”

“No way,” Oikawa breathes. “What position?!”

“Middle blocker.”

“Well, I’ll have to have you try and block my serves sometime then, mister. Though I assure you you’ll have a bit of a difficult time,” Oikawa preens.

“Yeah, you play for the National team,” Yamazaki grumbles. “I haven’t touched a ball in years.”

“We’ll just have to fix that then, won’t we.”

“Fine.” Yamazaki smiles, but it almost looks like a grimace. “I’ll look forward to that then.”

Oikawa gives him the finger-guns. “You sure should!”

 

 

 

“Ugggghhhh,” Oikawa moans. “I swear I don’t usually get tipsy this quickly, but I haven’t exactly- _hic_ -been in the best, like, place...? Lately? Yanno what I mean?”

“Here, have some water,” Yamazaki suggests, pushing a glass towards him. Oikawa downs it, a bit of water trickling out of the corner of his mouth. He wipes it on his bare arm, then lets out the world’s longest sigh.

“You’re kinda like Iwa-chan, y’know,” he slurs, waving a wobbly hand in the air. “Like, your aura and everything?”

“Iwa...ah, you mean Iwaizumi-san. Your best friend, right?”

“Mm-hmmm, best friend in the universe!” Oikawa slams his palms in the table gleefully. “Love that guy!”

Yamazaki smiles and beckons for the bartender, asking for another water. He slides it towards Oikawa. “You’ll feel better if you drink this too.”

“Ugggghhh, I’m not drunk, just a little woozy.”

“Please drink it.”

“Fiiiiine.” Oikawa sips at that one, unable to down it with his stomach feeling full. Even in this hazy state, he knows it won’t be fun to try to make his way to the bathroom right now. “Sooo, Yama-chan. You got a cute girlfriend or anything?”

Yamazaki’s smile falls off his face. “No,” he says shortly.

“Ohhh, why’s that? A handsome guy like you?” Oikawa tries to pat him on the cheek, but misses and gets his nose instead. “Whooops, ma bad.”

Yamazaki rubs his nose balefully and averts his gaze. “I have someone I like.”

“Oh!” Oikawa sits up straighter. “That’s great, do I know her? Have you confessed? Is it unrequited? Boy, do I know how you feel, haha...”

“You do know him,” Yamazaki confesses. Oikawa sees his Adam’s apple bob and watches as his hand approaches, slowly, then lands on Oikawa’s own, almost as if in slow motion. “I-it’s you, Oikawa-san.”

His jaw drops. At the contact of Yamazaki’s hand and the sight of his embarrassed expression, his red cheeks, Oikawa feels the alcohol in his system slowly evaporate, leaving his head increasingly, uncomfortably clear. “Huh?” he says eloquently.

“Yeah...” Yamazaki rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just...you mentioned jokingly before that you don’t have any interest in girls and how you were desperately single, so I...”

“Oh.” Oikawa blinks. “Right.”

“Did I assume wrong?” Yamazaki peeks up at him from under dark lashes.

“N-no, um. You were right about my sexuality.” Oikawa’s mind is reeling with flashbacks of all his interactions with Yamazaki, wondering if he’s ever been suggestive or ambiguous about his affections, and it suddenly dawns on him that he’s ranted so many times about his singleness. He’s gushed loads about Iwaizumi, but not in a specifically romantic fashion, and he didn’t make it a point to tell anyone at the bakery other than Yachi when he and Iwaizumi began dating because he didn’t think any of them would particularly care.

“Um, Yama-chan,” he begins tentatively. “Thank you, I appreciate you telling me. You’re a really nice person, and hot to boot, but I...I have a—”

The words get stuck in his throat when it occurs to him that he’s unsure how to label the state of his and Iwaizumi’s relationship. The other man made it clear that he loves Oikawa and he’s only moving out for the span of a few months to prove that. And Oikawa believes it; Iwaizumi has never been anything less than entirely truthful with him. In fact, Oikawa himself was the deciding factor for this turn of events. It was a decision he came to abruptly, wanting to take the leap, but he can’t deny that the more time passes, the more he’s come to be glad he made this decision.

Yet, despite all of this, he can’t help but detect the inkling of doubt lurking in the back of his mind, and he hates himself for it. His mouth opens and closes, wanting to say that one last word but afraid to.

And then suddenly, entirely out of the blue, the image of Iwaizumi smirking and telling him, “you have the right to be jealous” flashes in his mind. Then Iwaizumi’s twisted expression of hurt as he demands why Oikawa went around telling everyone he was single. Hanamaki, his voice an echo, berating Oikawa, _you should know better_.

“I have a boyfriend,” Oikawa says, looking Yamazaki straight in the eye. “I’m sorry.”

To his complete and utter guilt, Yamazaki looks crushed. “Oh,” he mumbles, withdrawing his hand. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“No, I should be the one who's sorry, Yama-chan.” Oikawa looks down at his hands. “I didn’t mean to lead you on. I’m actually dating Iwa-chan, but it’s a pretty recent thing, and I didn’t think to bring it up with anyone who wasn’t our mutual friend.”

“Ah.” Yamazaki blinks slowly. “I guess I should’ve known.”

Oikawa winces. Yamazaki shoots him a wry smirk. “Don’t worry about it, Oikawa-san. I’ll get over it. But if you want to make it up to me, how about we have the next round on you? And then I’ll go home and sleep it off.”

“Oh! Yeah, totally, order whatever you want!” Oikawa scrambles to wave over the bartender, shooting Yamazaki a genuine smile. “Dom Perignon?” he jokes.

“I was thinking a beer, actually.”

Now Oikawa feels even worse. He orders the most expensive beer on the menu. “Don’t worry, Yama-chan, a guy as dashing and considerate and capable as you, you’ll have suitors lining down the block in no time.”

“Uh huh,” Yamazaki deadpans. “We’ll see about that.”

“In my humble opinion, you should seduce them with cream puffs! I’m, like, ninety-nine percent sure Makki would cheat on Mattsun with you if you promised him a lifelong supply of them.”

“That’s...flattering, I guess.”

Oikawa gasps, holding a hand to his mouth. “OR, next time, we should have you stand outside the bakery with a tray of cream puff samples! I bet you ten yen you’ll get a phone number by the end of that.”

“I can’t even buy a piece of candy with ten yen,” Yamazaki mutters under his breath.

“Don’t be greedy, Yama-chan, money’s money!” Oikawa scolds, sliding the beer towards him. “You gotta save up!”

Yamazaki rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

 

 

 

As Oikawa lies in bed, buried under the covers, he finds the courage to open his text messaging app, having cleared all his notifications that morning without looking at them. It strikes him how much of a hypocrite he is. There he was getting mad at Iwaizumi when the guy wasn't planning on going to the goukon in the first place, and he just went on an accidental date with a guy who’s actually interested in him.

He reads the texts from Iwaizumi from the night before, guilt, frustration, and self-loathing churning in his stomach.

_Iwa-chan: no, i’m not going_

_Iwa-chan: i already told hatsubashi-san my lover would be upset. he was understanding_

_Iwa-chan: don’t feel bad, oikawa. it’s not a big deal_

_Iwa-chan: oikawa?_

_Iwa-chan: you asleep?_

_Iwa-chan: goodnight, then_

Oikawa takes a deep breath and taps on the reply button. He hesitates for a long moment. _iwa chan_ , he types. _im sorry but i accidentally went on a date with yama chan_

He waits with bated breath, watching the minutes tick by in the top corner of his phone. Every time his screen goes dark, he taps it again, afraid he’ll miss the notification.

Finally, after a grueling six minutes, his phone begins to vibrate, deafening in the silent room. “Oh god,” he whimpers upon seeing the picture of Iwaizumi’s sleeping face take up the entire screen. His thumb trembles as he swipes it across the answer button.

“H-Hello?”

 _“What the fuck do you mean,”_ Iwaizumi demands. _“How do you accidentally go on a date with someone?”_

“I-it’s not like that,” Oikawa babbles, sitting up, the sudden rush of panic making him lightheaded. Godzilla rolls off of his pillow towards the foot of his bed. “I—he asked me out for drinks and I said yes because I thought it was a friend thing, or like, a co-worker thing, and I invited Yacchan too and she said yes and it was all good, but Yacchan’s cat had a—I don’t know, it was sick or something so she couldn’t come, and then it was just me and Yama-chan and we went to the new bar downtown because that’s where we were originally planning to go, and we had a few drinks, and then...” Oikawa gulps in an inhale, then lets out a shuddery breath.

Iwaizumi’s voice is very quiet. _“Then what?”_

“Uh...he...um...” Oikawa runs a hand through his hair, slipping off the bed to pace the room. “Well, I teased him about not having a girlfriend, and he said there’s someone he likes, and then he said it was me...”

Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything. Oikawa can’t even hear his breathing on the other end.

“I told him I have a boyfriend,” Oikawa blurts. “That I’m dating Iwa-chan and it was a recent thing so I didn’t blab about it to the bakery and I’m sorry for leading him on and he was chill and I don’t think it’ll be awkward at work or anything...”

Finally, Iwaizumi lets out a ragged sigh. It sounds like relief. Oikawa begins to tear up again. “’m sorry, Iwa-chan,” he mumbles.

 _“No,”_ Iwaizumi says. _“You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not your fault he likes you.”_

Oikawa’s pacing slows to a stop, and he slumps down on his bed as a bit of the tension drains from him.

 _“I thought about this before too, when we were at the onsen,”_ Iwaizumi confesses. _“But before I get into that, I want to say that this...whole moving out thing began as an opportunity for me to show my parents their way of thinking isn’t necessarily right, and I’ve been feeling bad about it because it’s like you were forced into this situation. I made you accommodate me.”_

“I knew you were thinking that,” Oikawa mutters. “Iwa-chan, it might’ve started out that way, and I’m not exactly ecstatic about the situation, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing to do. Better to get it over with early than have doubts later, right?

_"Yeah..."_

“Also, since we’re on the topic...” Oikawa bites his lip. “I just want to put it out there that even though we were kinda like, ‘fine, you move out,’ immediately that day when you came back from Miyagi, I thought about it really hard in my own way during the week before you left. And I think we communicated well. So when you try to shoulder the blame all on your own, it makes me feel like you think I’m too dumb or fragile to make my own decisions.”

 _“Oh,”_ Iwaizumi breathes. _“Sorry, I didn’t m—”_

“I know you didn’t mean it that way,” Oikawa assures him. “But you don’t need to...like, baby me, okay?”

 _“Right.”_ Iwaizumi exhales slowly. _“Sorry.”_

“And also, I’ve been treating this separation as kinda a way to find myself? ‘Cause like your parents said, we’ve known each other for so long and we’re always together. I mentioned this before, but I didn’t agree to this because I wanted to prove anything to anyone, I just thought separation would be a good idea. For me.”

_“I know. I knew, but I still felt bad, for some reason.”_

“That’s ‘cause Iwa-chan’s a silly martyr.”

_“Shut up. I stopped wanting this to be about proof a long time ago—just like you, I wanted it to be about us.”_

“Yeah.” Oikawa draws random patterns on the covers, at ease now that he’s put his thoughts in the open. “So what were you going to say? About the onsen.”

Iwaizumi hums, pausing for a moment. _“Well, that...this started because of me and my parents. And because I want you to feel safe in this relationship. Now, it's about us taking the opportunity to experience some time on our own, and...I mean, I think you should also take the time to—how should I say this. Consider the same things from your perspective.”_

Oikawa frowns. “What things?”

Iwaizumi sighs. _“I already knew at the onsen that Yamazaki liked you. I felt guilty because it was like I was taking away your right to choose. You were caught in this unrequited love that was on the verge of being requited, so of course you didn’t have eyes for him, but now that you_ have _me...”_ Iwaizumi's voice wavers. _“I don’t know if I live up to your expectations, Oikawa. I don’t know if those ten years you spent were worth it, just for someone like me. So I—I think, during this time, you need to think about what you really want, because this is no longer about your insecurities about being unloved or—”_

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa interrupts, unable to take it any longer. “That is the stupidest thing I have literally ever heard in my entire life.”

_“Liste—”_

“No no no, Iwa-chan, I think you should listen. I feel like whenever my feelings get involved, you get scared of hurting me and start thinking about all sorts of complicated things, but it really isn’t that complicated,” Oikawa huffs. “You’re probably thinking, part of the reason I stuck to my infamous decade of unrequitedness is because I’m a perfectionist and it doesn’t sit well with me when someone I like doesn’t like me back. Because I don’t dig it when something I want can’t be obtained. Am I right?”

 _“Yeah,”_ Iwaizumi admits. _“Partially, anyway.”_

“Okay, see, I totally get that. It’s a reasonable conclusion given my rotten personality, which you know very well. And I’m not saying there isn’t even a tiny bit of truth to it, because it does bug the hell outta me when I don’t get the things I want, or when someone I like doesn’t like me. Not that that happens. _However_ ,” Oikawa jabs a finger into the Godzilla plushie lying by his side. “You are also completely missing the point! Which is that I like you so much because you’re you!”

Iwaizumi fails to respond. Oikawa groans in frustration.

“Iwa-chan, my dear, dumb Iwa-chan, has it never occurred to you that I tried super duper hard to get over you? I might be stubborn, but I’m not gonna blindly go after something that’s impossible, yanno? Problem is that it never worked, because you were so Iwa-chan, and I love that! I don’t have any doubts, it’s such a waste of effort to even worry about that.”

_“But—”_

“AND, I also know what I’m in for. If you haven’t noticed, I think we’ve been a pretty awesome couple these past few months. And I don’t even have to worry about what it’ll be like if our passion and fireworks and all that stuff disappears sometime far in the future. Because we’ve been best friends for so long, I already know it’ll still be amazing. Capiche? Are we crystal?”

Finally, Iwaizumi laughs. It’s the most beautiful sound Oikawa’s heard in a week. He sounds so relieved, and again, Oikawa is reminded he’s not the only one between the two of them who has insecurities.

 _“I love you,”_ Iwaizumi says.

Just kidding, that’s the most beautiful sound Oikawa’s heard in a week.

“Love you too.” he grins, flopping on to his back. “Come back to me soon, ‘kay? I have a tendency to forget how you feel ‘bout me.”

 _“Never doubt that,”_ Iwaizumi reprimands. _"But now that you put it that way, I guess I was being pigheaded. I tell you to consider your options, but it's not like I'm even bothering to do the same, since I'm set on you."_

Oikawa giggles. “Who knew Iwa-chan could be such a sap?”

_“Shut up.”_

“You know what’s funny, though?” Oikawa’s voice drops to a whisper, like he’s sharing a secret. “A phone call from Iwa-chan, and suddenly I’m back to life.”

 _“Stop, you’re disgusting,”_ Iwaizumi groans, before pausing. _“Have you been eating right?”_

“Okay, that is not what I meant by not being alive, but whatever.”

_“It’s a good question.”_

“I’ve been eating just fine, mother.”

Iwaizumi lets out a hmph, the squeaking of a chair in the background. _“So I guess I should let you go now,”_ he says. _“It’s late.”_

“Awww, but we haven’t gotten to talk in a whole week,” Oikawa whines, kicking his legs.

_“That was your idea, genius.”_

“Boo! Can I take it back?”

_“No. You’re only making this harder.”_

“Whyyyy, isn’t it fine to talk for another five minutes?” Oikawa wails, put-off.

Iwaizumi heaves out a long-suffering sigh. _“Because if I hear your voice, I’ll want to see you.”_

Oikawa gasps, eyes going round. Butterflies erupt in his stomach.

And then abruptly die when he hears the beeping in his ear.

“IWA-CHAN HOW DARE YOU HANG UP ON ME!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!! many of u were quite worked up about the previous chapter hahaha it was great to see some civil discussion in the comments and this might sound mean but i was also proud of myself for making yall so emotionally invested. at the same time it was just a teensy bit amusing bc i finished writing the entire fic weeks ago (now im just fixing typos and grammar and the like) and knew a lot of ur concerns would be addressed in this chapter...cliffhangers get ppl worked up eh? (i know, im one of those ppl LOL) it was also rly interesting to see some of u assume things about the characters and their motivations based on ur own outlooks and experiences, and i enjoyed seeing that, that the story extends into ur lives somehow. so thank u for taking the time to comment, if u did! 
> 
> btw, just wanted to make clear that i'm always happy to accept all sorts of opinions whether they align with mine or not, esp bc u guys have put in such effort to not hurt me and expressed ur saltiness towards only the characters HAHA...so thank you for doing that, i appreciate it ♥ next update coming soon!


	17. Day 182

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a while ago, i dedicated a chapter to a handful of specific readers to thank them for giving me the motivation i needed to finish this LONG ASS FIC GOD ITS THE LONGEST FIC IVE EVER WRITTEN
> 
> i thought it might be fitting to do the same thing for the final chapter too (btw i bet yall had no idea this was the last one, i didnt update the total chapter number on purpose SURPRISE LOLOL)
> 
> to switch things up, id like to dedicate this last chapter to a few of u i didnt mention last time: **bandaide, ItsAiryBro, Rimastark, Moonlightxmjh, unnatural_ocean, yoyoyo242, reliable_passerine,** and **dreamiest**. thank you. i can’t even begin to explain how much i appreciated ur comments and support ♥ and of course, there are so many more of u who i havent mentioned. thank you to u too!

_Day 182._

The days pass as they always do with the tiny ups and downs of ordinary life. After learning about Iwaizumi’s absence, his friends started going out of their way to make even more room for him in their lives than usual, and Oikawa can’t deny he’s been getting by pretty happily. At first, he considers cutting down his availability at the bakery, what with Yamazaki and his crush and all that, but the other man’s been trying so obviously to make him feel at ease, he figures doing that would be the rude thing.

In his free time, he experiments with new recipes, occasionally dropping by the Matsu-Hana or Kuro-Dai residences to proudly share his creations. When he’s feeling adventurous, he borrows Matsukawa’s camera and tries his hand at taking pretty pictures again, or invites Yachi over so they can paint whatever catches their fancy. He starts a blog too, and it’s a mess since he still hasn’t settled on a topic or theme to write about, the page a jumble of random rants, life tips, introspection, and K-drama-crush-freak-outs. But his slowly growing group of followers don’t seem to mind, as far as he can tell, so he thinks maybe it’s fine to continue as he is.

A mini tournament comes and goes. The victory is gratifying, a spike that reminds him of the importance of not just volleyball as a sport, but also of working for and achieving his goals. He knows Iwaizumi’s there in person for the final as he always is, because Oikawa receives a text when he’s in the changing room that simply says, _good match_.

Yet, somehow, despite the victory—despite absolutely everything in his life going swimmingly, he can’t shake off the small hole of emptiness in his chest. In the face of what’s supposed to be triumph, this hole seems larger, ironically. The win is another achievement under his belt, validation that he’s good. That the choice he made to commit to volleyball was a correct one, and volleyball’s always been one of the most important things in his life. He should be feeling _more_.

Truthfully, Oikawa is fine. He’s content. As time goes on, the reflex to cook for two flushes out of his system. The urge to share everything that happens to him with Iwaizumi, even the tiniest, most insignificant things: it becomes an impulse that occasionally pops into his mind, rather than a simmering, constant desire. Oikawa has his own sparkling career, hobbies he enjoys, and caring, fun friends who only want the best for him. He finds himself more in-tune with all of these things without Iwaizumi taking up his time and attention.

Truly, he’s grateful, because the separation did what they intended for it to do; at first, they might have been raring to prove something to everyone who doubted them, but in the end, it became an opportunity for self-reflection, to discover things in themselves they might have forgotten. Especially for Oikawa, who spent over a decade trapped in a hole of unrequited feelings that forced him into tunnel-vision. Up until a month ago, he existed only in two states: the him who was obsessed with his unrequited feelings for Iwaizumi, and the him who was obsessed with his requited feelings. By letting go of his insecurities about separation and the emotion attached to those insecurities, Oikawa took away the obsession. He grew to understand a third state of himself, one centering around him as a person, away from romantic infatuation. Now, he’s come to know who he is, without Iwaizumi.

But—no matter how in-tune with himself he is, Oikawa’s found that life has lost some of its sharpness, its colour. Just like the tournament victory, everything feels dulled, as if there’s some sort of missing flavour in his life. The undercurrent of monotony is unshakeable, especially when paired with the restlessness from knowing he could have more, if he so wanted.

It’s true that Oikawa doesn’t need Iwaizumi in his life. But he wants him, so badly.

Days, weeks, months pass. Day number 182, marked on his calendar: the official last twenty-four hours of their supposed six-month contract. He remembers February, when the days were only beginning to warm, and he thinks back to the out-of-season fireworks show he went to with Hanamaki and Matsukawa then, and how broken he felt as he moped about his unreturned love.

Now, September approaches. On paper, it doesn’t seem like a long time has passed. But there’s almost a haze over the memories, with how far away they feel to Oikawa. As if he’s grown past them.

Iwaizumi doesn’t go out of his way to text or call on that final day. Oikawa doubts he remembers, and he’s not surprised—from the beginning, Iwaizumi never cared about the six-month deadline. It’s only one more sign that Oikawa should have nothing but trust for their relationship.

So he goes about his business. He has fun. He lives.

And a small part of him waits.

* * *

_∞._

When his dear mother calls him for the third time that week half-suggesting, half-imploring for him to go back to Miyagi for a visit, Oikawa is concerned. He’s sure it’s nothing serious. His parents would’ve definitely told him if they or his other relatives got sick or anything, but he can’t think of any other reason why his mom would be so insistent on him going back.

What if someone got caught up in debt? What if his parents were scammed and desperately in need of money but too ashamed to ask for it over the phone? His thoughts begin spiraling into a deep, dark abyss, and the more he thinks about it, the more worried he gets. He calls the bank to check the maximum amount of money he’s allowed to transfer to another account without involving a bunch of legal paperwork.

His coach lets him take a couple extra days off in addition to his already scheduled rest days, and he finds himself on the bullet train the next morning. His scarf is wrapped around the entire bottom of his face, leg bouncing both from a mixture of anxiety and the autumn chill. The ride takes an excruciating amount of time and he jumps every time his phone vibrates with a text.

_Mattsun: on ur way to miyagi now?_

_Makki: ayyy how much longer till u get there? say hi to oi-ma and oi-pa for me_

_Dai-chan: have a safe trip!_

_Kuro-chan: yo heard ur goin back to ur parents’. have fun ;)))_

The last text in particular makes Oikawa scratch his head, but he ignores his confusion and sends them all cursory responses before stuffing his phone back in his bag.

As the Tokyo skyscrapers give way to Miyagi’s natural green, cold sweat begins to bead on the back of Oikawa’s neck. Maybe someone’s so sick they’re dying. Or an accident happened. Or what if the debt is so large even he can’t pay it off? His legs are a little shaky as he stumbles off the train, but he soon starts sprinting for a taxi, forgoing the bus.

The car pulls up outside his house another painful half-hour later, and he runs to the front door, banging his fist on it. “Mooom, Daaad, it’s Tooru, open up!”

He hears a gasp from inside, then quick footsteps before the door is flung open. “Tooru!” his mom cries in surprise, immediately wrapping him in an embrace. “You’re early! I thought you’d take another half an hour.”

“I took a taxi instead of the bus," he explains quickly. "Now, don’t lie to me.” Oikawa pushes her away, hands on her shoulders, and stares hard into brown eyes identical to his own. “Who’s dying?”

His mom blinks at him, bemused. “What?”

Oikawa squints. “So you were scammed, then?”

“Tooru,” she laughs, the corners of her eyes wrinkling. “What are you talking about?”

“Well—you kept telling me to come back!” he yells, stamping his foot. “I thought something happened!”

His mom laughs hard at that, bending over at the waist. His dad suddenly appears from the kitchen, face bright and happy. “Tooru, you’re early!”

“Dad, what’s going on!” he whines.

“Nothing!” his mom exclaims, wiping away a tear. “We would’ve told you if something happened, silly boy. I called ‘cause I happened to miss you a lot this week!”

The weight of what feels like a gazillion elephants lifts from Oikawa’s shoulders and he sits down on the floor, right in the genkan, relieved and exhausted. “Wow. Just wow.”

“Well, sorry for being anti-climactic.” Oikawa’s dad drifts to his side and pats him on the shoulder. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen you, so.”

“Next time you should just say so,” Oikawa huffs, rubbing his swollen, sleepless eyes. “Whatever, as long as nothing’s wrong. Maaaa, I’m hungry, feed me.”

“Spoiled brat,” his mom says fondly, ruffling his hair. “There’s some milk bread for you in the kitchen, go wash your hands and I’ll get it for you. By the way, is that the only thing you brought?” She points at his duffle bag. “Usually you bring two suitcases.”

“I wasn’t exactly in the mood to bring all my stuff,” Oikawa grumbles.

His mom lets out another guffaw. “All right, stop pouting. Eat your lunch, then we can go to your auntie’s house in the afternoon. She complains all the time about not seeing you enough.”

“Can I just relax for today?” Oikawa pleads. “I didn’t get much sleep last night, and I’ll still be here for another three days!”

His mom clicks her tongue. “Fine, fine. Only if you go on a walk after dinner, get some fresh air.”

“Moooom, I’m not a kid anymore, I don’t need to play outside.”

“It’s not every day you get to breathe in clean Miyagi air! Go savour it!”

“We don’t even live in the busiest part of Tokyo," Oikawa trills, just to be annoying. "We get plenty of fresh air~”

“Tooru.” His mom turns around with a smile that’s all teeth. “After dinner, you’re going to go to that little forest by the park. Walk off your meal, enjoy the beauty of nature. End of story.” She strides off towards the kitchen, rolling her sleeves up. Oikawa gapes after her before turning to his dad. He’s usually the voice of reason in the house, but this time, he just grins and shrugs.

“Listen to your mother,” he teases.

Oikawa groans.

 

 

 

He often doesn’t remember how much he misses his parents until he sees them in person. Then he puts reminders in his phone to visit them more, but life or laziness always gets in the way, and he ends up not going. This time, though, he swears to himself as he helps his mom in the kitchen with dinner. He won’t give up so easily.

Chatting with his mom reminds him of Iwaizumi’s parents. It’s been a long time since he’s seen them and he considers walking over to the next block to say hi, but figures it might be awkward. He wonders how Iwaizumi’s getting along with them now. Oikawa’s sure they’re doing just fine, but he remembers the few days Iwaizumi spent frustrated and resentful after he returned from Miyagi. Until they both came to realize his parents were only the trigger of something that should’ve happened, in any case. More and more, Oikawa becomes convinced that he would’ve been the one to propose a separation in the future, as he matured. Just to experience some alone-ness. He’s sure that if they’d done that at a later point of their relationship, though, it would’ve hurt more: the same way knocking down a fully built high-rise would be harder and require more repair than knocking down one that was only built to the second floor.

He’s glad his parents don’t ask about his relationship status, because it would be a looooong story and he wouldn’t know where to start. In the past, sometimes his mom would ask over the phone when he’d bring home a nice young man, but she and his dad don’t pressure him. Oikawa thinks it might be because they’re unsure how the LGBT community works and don’t want to make assumptions. He’s glad to know he’ll have good news for them in a while.

Dinner is a mixture of all sorts of different foods. Oikawa doesn’t have that many favourites outside of dessert, but his dad’s face lights up in bliss and his mom rolls her eyes at him. Meals at the Oikawa household are generally loud, even when his sister can’t join them, preoccupied with her new baby these last few months. They talk about Oikawa’s volleyball, Iwaizumi’s work, Oikawa’s mom’s recent experimentation with fried fish recipes, and his dad’s newest additions to his golf ball collection.

When they’re done eating, Oikawa and his dad do the dishes. As soon as the last plate is put away, his mom appears and shoves Oikawa’s coat at him.

“Now go on a walk!” she orders. “Your dad’s acid reflux has been getting worse these days. You need to watch out too and make sure you digest properly, don’t lie all over the place right after eating!”

Oikawa groans loudly but obediently bundles himself up. “I’ll be back in fifteen,” he calls over his shoulder.

“Make it half an hour!” his mom shouts back. “Go pick a nice flower from the forest for me!”

“There aren’t even any flowers blooming right now!”

“A leaf then!” she insists. “Now shoo, faster you’re gone, the faster you come back.”

 _”_ Ugggghhhhh _,”_ Oikawa gripes, stomping out of the house and down the path towards the forest. When he gets there, he stares at the trees, looming ominously. He sighs and steps on to the meager path of dirt (if it can even be called that) that’s been worn through the forest by other explorers.

During this time of year, the sun sets before six, so the sky’s long gone dark and the wind that pulls at his hair is cold enough to make him shiver in his pea coat. He buries himself further into his huge knit scarf, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“God, it’s cold as heck, why’s she making me go on a walk at night in the middle of October,” he mutters to himself, kicking a stray stone and listening to it bounce away. “Pitch black and can’t see anything in a forest, what if I get kidnapped and have my organs sold, huh, whose fault will it be, huh, I can’t die without seeing Iwa-chan one last time though, that wouldn’t be f-fair—GOD, IT’S COLD.” His teeth chatter a little and he starts fast-walking, hoping it’ll warm him up.

It really is difficult to see, what with there being no street lights in the small forest, but thankfully, Oikawa’s feet know where to take him. It’s a path he knows like the back of his hand, having made this very forest his and Iwaizumi’s empire, running around playing hide and seek or being grossed out—on his part, anyway—by the weird creepy-crawlies they find.

Something catches his eye in the distance, tiny and sparkling in the blackness. Oikawa squints, wondering if he’s seeing things, but the closer he gets, the more spots appear, what look like small dots of light. For a second, he thinks they’re fireflies, but that doesn’t make sense given the season. As he approaches, he finally sees that they’re fairy lights, a single string of them swirling over a bush and veering sharply to a path to the left.

They’re Christmas lights, he realizes. Someone got way too excited and put them up early, but he’s not complaining, he’s a firm believer that Christmas is the absolute best time of the year. Laughing in delight, Oikawa pulls his phone out of his jacket pocket, snapping pictures and following the lights.

The single string is joined by another, then another, until there’re webs of them all over the bushes on both sides of him, like some sort of path of illumination. He takes a million pictures, footsteps slowing as he approaches the end of the trail where two towering evergreens block the entrance to what he remembers to be a clearing. With time, the leaves and branches of the trees have grown into a gigantic, tangled mess Oikawa debates whether he should go through the trouble of forcing himself between them just to see some lights that may or may not be there.

“Ah, why not,” he says to the skies, slipping his phone back in his pocket. He shoves his hands into the branches, trying to feel if there’s enough room for his body to squeeze past. He decides to peek his head through first so that he can at least see if there’s anything worth fighting his way in for.

He’s met with a face staring right into his.

“Oh, shi—”

“AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!” Oikawa screams like a little girl, tripping over his own feet as he scrambles backwards. He lands on his butt, heart racing a mile an hour, a keen building in his throat.

Until he registers who it was, exactly, that scared the living daylights out of him.

“IWA-CHAN!” he shrieks, scurrying to his feet before crashing his entire body through the brush. He covers his face and squeezes his eyes shut, afraid a branch will scratch him or that a spider or something equally icky will smack into his face. When he bursts out the other side, he lets his arms fall.

His jaw drops. The bushes and trees around the small clearing have been decorated with all colours of fairy lights, glowing in the blackness of night like something out of a fantasy. In the center of the clearing are dozens of candles, flickering from the occasional draft but valiantly staying lit.

They spell out, _MARRY ME, IDIOT_.

Iwaizumi’s on one knee behind the candles, looking embarrassed and harassed and nervous. His hands shake around the ring box that’s still closed.

Oikawa gawks. He can’t feel any of his limbs. Or his face. A gazillion thoughts race through his mind, but of course, because he’s the smartest, most eloquent man alive, the first thing out of his mouth is, “How’d you get over there so fast?! Did you run?!”

Iwaizumi groans loudly, covering his face with one hand. He says something that Oikawa can’t hear from his distance.

“What’d you say?” he shouts instead of using his legs to get closer. Because he can’t feel his legs.

Iwaizumi bristles and shoots to his feet. “I said!” he yells back. “I was trying to peek through the trees to make sure it was you because some couple came earlier and found me on one knee and I—fuck, I wanted to crawl into a hole and die, okay! Give me a break, you bastard!”

Hysteria bubbles up in Oikawa’s chest, and he throws back his head and laughs and laughs and laughs, so hard he can’t breathe, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Stop fucking laughing, you piece of trash!” Iwaizumi roars. He stalks around the candles towards Oikawa and grabs him by the wrist, dragging him further into the clearing. Oikawa can’t stop cackling, it’s physically impossible.

But then Iwaizumi gets on his knee again, and Oikawa chokes, his laughter abruptly cutting off.

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi says, the redness in his face evident even in the dim illumination of the candles and fairy lights. “I had a speech and everything, but now I’ve forgotten it all. Shit.” He clears his throat and glares up in Oikawa. “Whatever, you know I’m no good with words, so I’m just gonna wing this.”

Oikawa wipes away any residual tears, lips curling into a smile. “You were pretty good with words when you were trying to convince me you loved me,” he can’t help teasing.

“That was ‘cause you were on the verge of self-destructing, I had to do something,” Iwaizumi retorts. “Now shut up and listen.”

“Okay, but are you gonna stay down there the whol—”

“Shut. Up.” Iwaizumi glowers. Oikawa mimes zipping his lips shut.

Iwaizumi clears his throat. Takes a deep breath. “Oikawa Tooru,” he says, voice wavering uncharacteristically. “I’ve known you since we were four. You’ve been my best friend for all of our lives. Not just my best friend, but the person I got along with best out of everyone I knew, and the person who understood me the best. When the last day of our self-imposed three months of separation came, it was like...Christmas morning, from when I was a kid. I felt like an idiot, being so excited.”

Briefly, Oikawa is horrified—he didn’t realize three months had passed, and how weird is that, when he feels the ache of Iwaizumi's absence in his chest like the ebb and flow of a tide? He was so caught up in simply trying to live, he forgot exactly how many days had passed, confident in the knowledge that both of them were doing their best and they’d be reunited soon.

Now, looking down into Iwaizumi’s sincere eyes, the realization that he's done waiting, and that this is a marriage proposal, hits Oikawa in all of its weight and significance. Hysteria and disbelief build again inside of him, numbing his mind.

“I—I knew from the beginning you were someone I’d keep in my life, always,” Iwaizumi continues. “But I didn’t know the role you would come to fill, or that you could become even more important to me. These last few months...or, well, it’s almost been a year now. Anyway, the time I spent in a romantic relationship with you, I guess I could say it was eye-opening. But most of all, they were the happiest months of my life. And I don’t know why that’s something I’m surprised about, because time spent with you was always my happiest, even before we started dating.”

Iwaizumi swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Oikawa wants to touch his red, flustered face. “Before I moved out, I said this would be a way to prove that you give me more joy in life than anything or anyone else. But after our phone call...the, uh, Yamazaki one...I realized that was an immature approach. Instead, we agreed we’d be doing this for ourselves, to experience life on our own. I couldn’t have come to that conclusion without you. You bring out the best in me.”

Oikawa trembles, desperately trying to keep his breathing steady, shoving and shoving at the emotion that threatens to rise out of his chest. He keeps his gaze pinned firmly on Iwaizumi’s, determined to catch every word.

“I’ve said this already,” Iwaizumi breathes out, “but not even the tiniest fucking speck in me is willing to give you up for vague doubts that others might think are supposed to outweigh my feelings for you. I acknowledge there might be frustration in the future. And unfairness, because of Japan’s outlook on same-sex relationships. I’m not saying I don’t care, or that it doesn’t matter, because that would be a lie. But those things—they’re so far from being a valid enough reason for me to not love you. Sorry, but I’m not gonna allow the expectations of people I don’t even know to decide who I should or shouldn’t be with.”

Iwaizumi pauses, gathering his thoughts. Oikawa hopes he can’t hear the sobs beginning to build in his chest.

“So...I guess what I’m trying to say is...I tried living without you these last three months. And it was fine, it wasn’t like I didn’t have moments where I laughed so hard I cried or whatever. But at the end of the day, when I went home, I felt empty. Not because there wasn’t anyone there with me, but because _you_ weren’t there. I wanted to see _your_ stupid reactions to my boring work stories and hear _your_ stupid jokes. I wanted to ruffle your ugly bed hair and kiss you when weren’t expecting it.”

The first sob breaks past Oikawa’s defense, hitching in his throat. He quickly wipes away a tear and shakes his head when Iwaizumi looks up in alarm. “I-I’m fine, keep going,” he urges wetly.

Iwaizumi grits his teeth, grabbing Oikawa’s wrist with the hand not holding the ring box, as if to ground him. Or maybe to ground himself. Oikawa jumps at the contact. Iwaizumi’s hand feels like an ice block; he must have been waiting for Oikawa for ages.

“I said, when I left,” Iwaizumi states, voice growing stronger. “This would show us that even though we don’t need each other to be happy. We make the choice to be together. I still stand by that. But I’ve also learned, the line between need and want blurs when it comes to the one you love. As disgustingly cliché as that is. Because even though I don’t need you, and you don’t need me, there’s this craving inside me for your company. The amount of happiness I experience is tenfold when I’m with you. And I don’t know if that in itself is a type of need. Fuck, I don’t know what—I’m not good at this feelings shit, but I’m trying, all right.”

Oikawa lets out a watery giggle and nods, biting his lip.

“So...in conclusion, I guess what I want to say is...” Iwaizumi coughs, letting go of Oikawa’s hand to pop open the box. Sitting inside is a simple gold band with one glittering stone embedded in the center. “Gay marriage isn’t legalized in Japan yet, but I don’t give much of a shit about the legal stuff anyway. I’m asking you to marry me so that we can be husbands around the people who accept us, and also because I want to show my resolve. To love you for the rest of my life. In sickness and in health, because _I_ want to be the one to make you happy.

“But that’s just my own selfish wish. So. Uh. I know we haven’t discussed things yet, and I want to hear what you thought of these past few months...but if you agree with the things I’ve said...” He raises the box higher, gaze averted. “M-Marry me?”

Oikawa throws himself into Iwaizumi, finally letting his gross, ugly sobbing out in the air, probably smearing tears and snot all over Iwaizumi’s coat. Iwaizumi holds on to him like a drowning man clinging to a raft.

“I’m guessing that’s a yes?” he says gruffly.

“ _Duh,_ ” Oikawa weeps. He pulls away, using his right hand to try to wipe the nasty wetness off of his face, and sticks out his left. “If you like it then you’d better put a ring on it, Iwa-chan.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do, genius,” Iwaizumi grumbles. He tries to pull the ring out of the holder, but the coldness makes him clumsy. Oikawa reaches out to help but Iwaizumi slaps him away, fumbling until he finally slides it on to Oikawa’s finger. It hangs a little loose, and Oikawa grips it tight between his middle and pinky fingers.

“It’s too big,” he complains with a hiccup.

“I didn’t exactly have a way to find out your ring size,” Iwaizumi sighs. “Don’t worry, we can get it resized. And by the way, I'm imagining this as your actual I’m-married ring and not an engagement one. We can go get it exchanged for a different one if you don’t like it.”

“No.” Oikawa grins, with all his teeth. “I like this one. But I’m curious why you got yellow gold instead of white gold.”

“I thought about getting white gold at first.” Iwaizumi shrugs. “But yellow gold seems more marriage-y, for some reason. And it reminds me of your gold medals.” Oikawa smirks in approval. “The diamond’s embedded in the band instead of sticking out of it, so it won’t get in the way much. You still won’t be able to wear it during practice, but I didn’t bother getting you a chain to wear it around your neck, ‘cause—”

“You thought I’d want to wear it on my ring finger? Iwa-chan, you know me too well!” Oikawa coos, squirming into Iwaizumi’s arms again.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Oikawa allows himself a short moment of bliss before letting go and getting to his feet. He holds out a hand for Iwaizumi, who takes it and stands, linking their hands.

“C’mon, Iwa-chan, let’s clean up and go back first. Your hands are freezing.”

“’m fine.”

“No, you’re not! If I knew, I would’ve come out sooner, geez. Wait.” Oikawa stops, eyes going wide. “Was my mom in on this? Was that why she kept telling me to go on a walk after dinner, and specifically to come _here_?”

Iwaizumi smirks. “Yeah, she’s been giving me updates on your whereabouts the whole day. My perfect ally.”

“WOW!” Oikawa stabs a finger into Iwaizumi’s chest. “So it was your fault I was all panicked about why my parents kept telling me to come home, and—so how long have you been in Miyagi?!”

“A few days.” Iwaizumi grins crookedly. “It took a while to gather enough candles. And lights.”

Oikawa squints. “How’d you get them all here anyway?” Iwaizumi points at a wheelbarrow, half-hidden behind a bush. “HAHAHA!" Oikawa bursts out in laughter. "WHAT THE HE—no, hold up, I was being mad, I’m not gonna be distracted by a wheelbarrow. Woooow, I can NOT believe this. So did all our friends know too? Is that why they kept texting me on my way here?!” Oikawa gasps, holding a hand to his mouth. “Kuro-chan told me to have fun and I was like, what the heck, what’s going through his vulgar mind now.”

“Those idiots,” Iwaizumi hisses. “I coincidentally met up with Hanamaki when I was picking out your ring and I guess he told everyone.”

“Wow, Makki, wow.”

“By the way.” Iwaizumi squeezes his hand. “Sorry I told your parents without telling you. Actually, my parents told them about it first so they asked me, and since everything was already out in the open, I sort of...asked for their permission.”

“Oh my god,” Oikawa rubs Iwaizumi condescendingly on the shoulder. “You’re so old-fashioned, Iwa-chan.”

“What’s wrong with that.”

“Nothing~ But yeah, nah, I don’t mind at all.” Oikawa waves it off. “I bet they were jumping for joy when you asked, huh.”

Iwaizumi laughs. “They were a little worried, at first. About your career and the future, those types of things. But after we got that out of the way, it was all congratulations and I-can’t-wait-to-see-Tooru’s-reaction. Everything was recorded, by the way.” Iwaizumi gestures towards a video recorder that was sitting inconspicuously in the corner, masked by the darkness.

Oikawa groans, face-palming. “Oh god, I’m never gonna live this down.”

“I’m the one that’s never gonna live this down,” Iwaizumi mutters under his breath.

“Did you...did it catch the part where the couple came in too?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything.

“OH MY GOD!” Oikawa crows, slapping his side. “I NEED TO SEE THIS ASAP. RIGHT NOW. OH MY GOD, SHOW ME HAHAHAHAHAAHAHHA!”

“I will leave you here to clean up on your own,” Iwaizumi threatens, trying to snatch his hand away. Oikawa holds on tight, flashing a cheeky grin, though it slowly fades as he remembers something.

“So...uh. Were your parents okay with it?” he asks.

Iwaizumi stops trying to rip his arm off, face softening. “Yeah. Just between you and me, I think they want to apologize. My mom baked a cake and my dad’s waiting for us to get back so he can play Mario Kart with you.”

“That...sounds really familiar,” Oikawa laughs shakily. He feels like crying all over again. He looks at Iwaizumi’s gentle expression, then down at his own finger, then around at all the candles and fairy lights. Again, that urge to laugh rises, expanding in his chest, at odds with the wobble of his jaw and lump in his throat. He’s still in shock, he probably won’t get it until he’s lying in bed in Iwaizumi’s arms, playing with the ring around his finger.

“I-I love you,” he blubbers, nose stinging with the threat of tears. “These past few months, I got by fine. Y’know we won that mini tournament, right? It was good. And I’ve perfected over ten dessert recipes. I got to hang with Dai-chan and Kuro-chan and Makki and Mattsun all the time. I took some nice pictures and painted lots of pretty things with Yacchan. My blog has over ten thousand followers, now. But—” Oikawa heaves a sob, tears sliding down his face. “It wasn’t the same without you.

“Everything you said...I feel the same. I have this nagging suspicion this proposal was you giving me my last chance to go, in case I w-wanted to—” the way Iwaizumi glances away for a split second gives away his guilt, “—but...oh my god, this is cheesy. But if I don’t say it, it’ll bother me. So bear with it, okay!” Oikawa makes himself keep his eyes on Iwaizumi’s, trembling as he forces his voice to work. “It doesn’t feel right, being happy without you. Y-you’re my best friend. But not just that. You’re also my pillar, and anchor, and inspiration. And my home.”

Iwaizumi hums, leaning in to kiss him. “And now, your husband,” he murmurs against Oikawa’s lips. Oikawa laughs, throwing his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck and kissing him back.

“My husband,” he agrees.

* * *

It started on a Saturday evening at 5:42 pm. A phone notification, an impulsive decision. A PowerPoint presentation, funnily enough.

Now, almost a year later, it’s a different Saturday with two different people, two...more mature people, who understand themselves and each other and what they want in life. Or at least, Oikawa sure hopes so.

The ceremony is held in mid-January at a park in Tokyo that Matsukawa rented out using his cameraman connections. It’s a small affair, with only their closest friends and family, a couple of Iwaizumi’s co-workers, the bakery employees, and the national volleyball team in attendance. Everyone’s wearing their nice clothes, clashing with their knee-high, waterproof boots. It’s the most snow Tokyo has seen in fifty years, and of course, it had to happen the week before Oikawa’s wedding.

Just his luck. He shouldn’t be surprised, though, honestly.

There’s no officiant, no attendants, not even a best man for either of them (mostly because Oikawa couldn’t choose, for the life of him). Their friends take turns to go up to the podium with brief, joking speeches, or heartfelt, choked-up ones that make Oikawa’s nails dig into his palms, an attempt to keep the tears at bay. Both of their moms cry, clinging to each other. Oikawa thinks he might've caught his dad subtly wiping away a tear.

With the freezing weather, he and Iwaizumi only take off their coats when it’s time for them to say their vows. Oikawa’s teeth chatter a little through his, as do Iwaizumi’s, but they can’t help but grin at each other. Then they share the kiss of promise, and Oikawa forces Iwaizumi to pose for a few extra pictures before they immediately bundle themselves up in their coats again. Once that's done, everyone packs into a small shuttle bus Kuroo rented from some shady source, and together they head for their dinner reservation at the best sushi restaurant in town.

The honeymoon is planned for two months later during the lull between volleyball seasons, so after dinner, their parents leave for their hotel rooms and all their friends part ways, and Iwaizumi drives the two of them back to their apartment. It feels almost too quiet without the noise of conversation around them, the warmth of being surrounded by their most loved ones. But sitting here in the car with Iwaizumi’s hand in his, Oikawa has never felt happier.

“You remembered to tell the restaurant to pack up the leftover cake, right,” he suddenly remembers when they're only five minutes from home.

“As if I’d forget.” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “You’d die.”

“Okay, good.” Oikawa slumps back into the seat. He sighs. “Today was so satisfying. And also tiring.”

“Yeah.”

“I just wanna pass out and sleep for the next two years.”

“The last episode of that drama airs today, though,” Iwaizumi reminds him. “You’re not gonna eat cake and watch it?”

Oikawa gasps, covering his mouth with his hand. Then he leans over the console to rest his head against Iwaizumi’s arm. “I’m so glad I married you.”

“Idiot,” Iwaizumi says fondly.

“Y’know, I just wanna put it out there, you’re the ketchup and mustard and relish in my life too.”

“Can we drop that metaphor yet? It's getting old.”

“You know it’s great.”

Iwaizumi squints in thought. “If I call you Tooru from now on, will you let it go?”

Oikawa swoons. “Wow, how _forward_ of you, Iwa-chan! Okay, I accept this condition! But only if I get to call you Hajime!”

Iwaizumi thinks for a moment. “Never mind, it’s harder to come up with the right nicknames for Tooru. Shittykawa just rolls off the tongue.”

“WOW, IWA-CHAN, WOW!”

“Love you, Trashykawa.”

“Y-YEAH, WELL, I DON’T!”

“Don’t be like that, Asskawa.”

“WOOOOOW!” Iwaizumi grins boyishly, squeezing Oikawa’s hand, his ring warm against the brunet’s skin. Oikawa pouts. “Okay, fine, I love you too. Iwa-chan’s such a meanie.”

“You like it,” Iwaizumi murmurs, kissing his knuckles. “Masochist.”

“Sadist.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am _not_.”

“Are _t_ —” Oikawa pauses. “Say, Iwa-chan, can we try spanking tonight? I’ve always wa—”

Iwaizumi groans loudly. “You are such trash, you want me to spank you on our first night as a married couple, what’s wrong wit—”

“But I wanna try it, what’s wrong with wanting to try!”

“I’m not trying to kinkshame you, moron, I’m saying who asks for that kinda thing on their fir—”

“Iwa-chan’s just too old-fashioned! Boring! You need some excitement in your life, I know you stare at my butt all the t—”

 _“Fine, I’ll do it, just shut up!”_ Iwaizumi finally explodes.

Oikawa rubs his face against Iwaizumi’s strong bicep, fluttering his lashes obnoxiously even though he knows Iwaizumi's eyes are on the road. “’Kay. But we gotta watch the drama and eat cake first, don’t forget.”

Iwaizumi sighs, a sound full of sorrow and regret. “I know.”

Oikawa beams and kisses him on the cheek. Yeah, he definitely chose the right guy.

 

 

 

_Epilogue._

“Oikawa, you fucking bastard!” Iwaizumi hollers, storming out of the bedroom into the living room where Oikawa’s spread out on the couch watching a K-drama. “If I find your dirty goddamn socks under the bed one last time, you’re going on dish duty for the next three months!”

“Awww, Iwa-chan, don’t be like that~” Oikawa stretches his legs in the air like he’s in synchronized swimming, pointing a sock-covered big toe in Iwaizumi’s direction. “I’m sorryyyy, ‘kaay? I just forgot! And they’re only socks, why you gotta get so mad!”

“Who the fuck wouldn’t get mad when their husband chucks his socks under the bed all the _damn_ time instead of walking two steps to throw them in the laundry hamper,” Iwaizumi growls, stalking closer to glare at Oikawa over the arm of the couch. “If I didn’t crawl under there and clean up after you every single week, you wouldn’t have any socks to wear!”

“I know, Iwa-chan, you’re the best, you’re so good to me,” Oikawa coos, stroking Iwaizumi’s abdomen. “It must be the stress getting to you, hmmm? Maybe we need to invest in a nice yoga mat~”

A vein in Iwaizumi’s forehead pulses and his eyes glint, lips pulling into a dangerous smirk. “Or,” he rasps, deceptively calm, fisting a hand in the front of Oikawa’s shirt. He yanks the brunet into his face. “I’ll take the stress _you_ cause me out on _you_ , since you deserve it.”

Oikawa’s heart leaps into throat, the pounding echoing in his ears. “Yeah?” he says breathily, face going warm. “What if I said I was looking forward to it?”

Iwaizumi’s smirks widens. “Strip and wait for me in the bedroom. If you want me to teach you a lesson so badly, I’ll give it to you.” He lets go of Oikawa, whipping around and grabbing the laundry basket. Oikawa stares at his ass as he stomps off, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, rubbing his legs together to alleviate the aching in his crotch.

He knew it’d be a good idea to throw his socks under the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> throughout the course of this story, i met some bumps in the road, the big one being a lack of motivation and time. and there was also quite a bit of confusion/disapproval from a handful of u about iwa at certain points HAHAHA 
> 
> there were things i didn’t explicitly make clear as i hoped that it wouldn’t be too hard to infer some of the things they left unsaid, or the timing of why they did certain things. i built this story in my mind as one of growth...i wanted oi and iwa to be ppl with their own motivations and logic behind the way they tackled problems, stumbling and making mistakes as they grew. i was really touched to see how some of u didn't dismiss these motivations and logic as invalid or insufficient just bc u didn't personally approve. buuut i mean lets be honest they both did some stupid shit LOL. i wonder if i did a decent job at turning them into real people, ones who struggle thru their decisions? XDDD
> 
> i always plan everything out ahead of time, but there were times when i’d be swayed by comments, like “omg what if i added this bc this person seems to like it” or “what if i take this out bc ppl dont like it.” in the end, i never did, partly cuz i wanted to stay true to myself, partly bc i wanted my sense of accomplishment to stem entirely from something i created, and not something i made to fit the taste of others. also partly bc i thought, yall trusting me to be the one to take u thru this plot i worked hard on--so im gonna continue doing that, without letting myself be swayed. i’m happy to say that im proud of this fic. im sure, for each of u, there were parts u liked and didn’t like. my only wish is that u didn’t come outta this feeling like u wasted ur time!!
> 
> WOOOOOOOOOOOW ALL RIGHT SORRY FOR THIS LONG ASS NOTE, I BET YALL WERE LIKE “OMG HAPPY ENDING :’)” and then u read this and ur like WOW depressing, who even cares AND THATS FAIR OK I GET IT, SOMETIMES WE JUST WANNA HAVE FUN IN THIS SAD SAD WORLD LOL
> 
> my sincerest thanks for making it to the end of this story (and also long note).
> 
> thank you. see u again! 
> 
> p.s. if u like kirishima x bakugou from boku no hero academia, dude i am obsessed and will be writing more of them. its truly an amazing anime, u wont be disappointed. pls join me ♥
> 
> edit: I HAVE MADE A TUMBLR, come scream at me at [fuzzfics](http://fuzzfics.tumblr.com) xoxoxo


End file.
